The Odds: The 68th Hunger Games
by Dharma the Polar Bear
Summary: "It's just tradition, isn't it? No use in changing it…" All Hunger Games are sure to be barbaric and hard to watch, and the 68th Hunger Games are by no means an exception. Twenty-four children go in, one lone victor comes out. How far will a human go to live?
1. District One Reapings

**Thank everyone for your support when this story got deleted, this is the reuploaded version of The Odds. **

**District One Reapings**

**Blain Sype, 18.**

My mother smoothed out my black button up shirt. I stared at the mirror in front of me, grey eyes staring back, and a permanent smirk on my face. It was reaping day. The day I'd been training for since before I could even remember. I was going to volunteer for the Hunger Games. My mother tried to take a come to my disheveled black hair, but I batted her hand away.

"No, Ma. I like my hair like this." The messy look was a signature. This is how I wanted everyone to remember me as I went down in history.

"It's reaping day." I looked back to the mirror. My mother's reflection looked helpless. She sighed. I was persistent. I always had been. Even more so after my dad left us.

"Come on, Mother. This is how I _always _keep my hair." There was a short silence, one I only assumed my mother was thinking of something else to say, and then she sighed again. In some ways I felt bad for her. She was happily married, rich, with two strong, Career-ready kids. But when I found my dad 'conversing' with another woman, and after he left us, we had next to nothing.

"Alright, Blain." She said, a forced smile spreading across her face. "Go find Dylan and head over to the reapings." I turned around to face Ma, giving her a big hug. She wasn't very short, but compared to my height, she looked almost childlike.

"Love you, Ma." I said as I left the house. The bright light of District One temporarily blinded me as he made I way to my best friend, Dylan's, house. I walked down a road, and saw several kids I knew from the training academy sitting around a table, already in their reaping clothes.

"Blain! Hey, Blain, come over here!" They yelled, so I took a detour. Dylan would have to wait.

**Alex Jeppson, 17.**

"Chase! Come back here with that!" I yelled at my older brother. He held the hairbrush out of my reach, waving it tauntingly. Rule number one about me: Don't hold things out of my reach.

"If you want it, you'll have to grab it!" He laughed. I rolled my eyes. I love my brother to death, but it was Reaping Day, and I did not want to miss out.

"Fine." I pouted, and pretended to be defeated, storming into the kitchen. I sat in a chair, arms crossed firmly across my chest, my eyebrows furrowed. My strawberry-blonde hair, normally neat, was incredibly messy, thanks to bedhead and an early training before I had a chance to get ready. That's how it normally went. I'd wake up, get dressed as fast as possible, and then race my butt over to the Academy for a quick training session before breakfast. Chase, ever the sympathetic one, came in to check on me, forgetting his hairbrush scheme. Just as he was about to give me the hairbrush, as his outstretched hand reached to me, another, smaller hand darted and wrestled it away from his grip. With another turn of strawberry blonde hair, the intruder was gone as quickly as she had come. "Damn you, Jacie!" I yelled, kicking the chair over in anger. I heard giggling in the next room. My twin Jacie was almost the exact opposite of me. I was the strong one, the one good with weapons, yet Jacie always seemed to appear out of nowhere and sneak unseen. I virtually hated her. "I will kill you with my bare hands!" My twin appeared at the doorway, arms raised in surrender.

"Violence is not necessary, little sister." She handed me the hairbrush. I ripped it from her grip, anger evident in my eyes, as a sneer crossed my face.

"We're twins." Jacie smirked, as I started to viciously yank the brush through my hair. I wasn't tender headed, so the haphazard movements didn't affect me.

**Blain Sype, 18.**

"Are you thinking of volunteering this year?" A pretty redheaded girl asked me. I chuckled. What was her name? Gina? Gertrude? No, it was Gala. The one with the short sword from the Academy. I shrugged, attempting to look cool. Hey, I pulled it off pretty well.

"Yeah. Last year to do it. I've been training for long enough. What about you?" Gala shook her head, fiddling with her bracelet.

"No, but next year for sure. I'm only 17 now. Lace's volunteering this year. She's 18 now, aren't you?" Gala gestured to a dark-haired girl sitting across the table. She nodded.

"Turned 18 last November." She affirmed. One of the boys at the table, Cyprus, gave each of us a high-five. I could remember that he was eighteen too.

"Well, may the best tribute volunteer." He smirked. Lace giggled. I rolled my eyes. What an asshole. With his 'may the best tribute volunteer.' I'm going to volunteer, and that's for certain. No Cyprus would get in my way of that. When I snapped back to reality, Gala and Lace were talking about some fighting technique, and Cyprus was looking over some notes. I was about to say goodbye when, suddenly, I was attacked from the back. Alarmed, but knowing what to do, I quickly swung my leg out, knocking my attacker to the ground in two seconds. I brushed myself off and returned to a standing position as my attacker, which turned out to be my friend Hailden, tried to get up. Dylan came laughing his head off from a few feet back.

"Who's gonna win these Games?" Dylan yelled. "Blain! Knocking Ol' Hailden to the ground in what, three seconds?"

"Two." Hailden muttered from the ground. I gave him a hand, and he jumped up, his feet landing cleanly on the ground.

"Hailden, you still volunteering?" I asked, still thinking about all the competition I'd have getting in. Every reaping day, an average of ten kids volunteer every time. I don't like the Capitol very much, but most of us here suck up. When Peacekeepers walk by, we proclaim our love for everyone to hear. 'Capitol this, Capitol that.' But, honestly, I think everyone up there's crazy. I thought girls here dressed weirdly. Oh no. Nothing compared to the Capitol. The Games had always interested me though. I like them. I watch them every year. A habit of a lot of District One kids is to keep notes during Hunger Games season. We're all up for volunteering. Me probably most of all. I feel like I have to get away. Even though District One is huge, and I have friends here, I just don't feel…complete.

"After those reflexes? Hell, no. You'd make a much better tribute anyway." Cyprus made a scoffing sound. "You're volunteering, Cyprus?" Cyprus gathered his notes and stood up.

"As a matter of fact, I am." Confidence is not good on him. Arrogant Cyprus. I have never liked him.

"Well, good luck beating Blain."

"I appreciate it. Well, see me in the Games, Sype." He walked away. Gala and Lace stared after him, and Gala started giggling. Lace glared at me for a second, then went back to talking to Gala. Dylan laughed.

"See me in the Games, Sype." He mocked; his voice high-pitched and girly. Oh, my good friends.

**Alex Jeppson, 17.**

My sister sucks. I am not kidding. First off, she stole my hairbrush. Then it was my shoes, claiming her ugly brown ones were better than my blue ones. I eventually got them back by threatening to destroy her drawing pads. Then she stole all of my makeup. It took me forever to get those back from her. She's seventeen and still acts twelve. I have no idea how she's gotten so much respect in our community. Chase left early, since he can get ready in ten minutes and still look great, to watch in the adult section. He's 19 and was never in the Games. Never attempted to volunteer. That made our parents mad, but they could never stop loving Chase. Everyone loves Chase. Everyone loves Jacie. Do people love Alex? Probably not. But they sure are afraid of me. And why, do you ask, are they afraid of me? Because I'm going to win. After yelling at Jacie for a good twenty minutes, I finally had the brilliant idea to leave the house early. Adopting my calm demeanor, I attempted to calm down. Couldn't let Jacie get the best of me, could I? Watching where I walked, I came to the giant opening in the middle of our town. Already it was full, filled with little kids, parents, and crazy teenagers. And there's nothing more dangerous than crazy teenagers that have been trained to kill each other. I signed in, and walked over my section, bored as heck. The reapings wouldn't start for another thirty minutes, so I was stuck watching the escort blabber to Peacekeepers about this and that, and she looked ridiculous. After a while, Jacie came over, smiling sweetly at me. Ugh. Siblings. I went to go stand by a group of girls from my school, while Jacie just kept smiling. I can't even enjoy the reapings without her creeping me out.

"Lace's volunteering this year." A girl in front of her whispered to another girl.

"So is Valentine."

"I wonder who it'll be…" I'd never heard of Valentine, but I had heard about Lace. Ruthless, a poor boy got too friendly with her and she put him in the infirmary for a month. As I was about to butt in, the escort tapped on the microphone to get our attention.

"Hello!" Her shrill voice rang out in that awful Capitol accent. "I see so many young and hopeful young faces out there!" Some of the boys cheered. It wasn't to flatter her; it just gave them something to be loud about. "As you all well know, it is time for the 68th Annual," She gave a dramatic pause for effect, "Hunger Games!" More people cheered, including me. The escort had incredibly tall blue hair, and her skin was an awful tint of sparkly purple. I never cared to remember the names of the escorts. She went on to talk about the incredibly important history of Panem and our betrayal, but how we mostly stuck with the Capitol, and were the most fortunate. By the time we actually got the great 'Pulling the Name Out of a Bowl' I was half asleep. Jacie, who had somehow found her way to my side, hit me with her elbow. "The ladies shall go first!" She cried, plunging her hand into the fishbowl. She didn't hesitate to pull out the first one her hand touched, and she walked back to the microphone. I glanced over to the 18-year-old girl section. Lace was trembling in anticipation. The escort cleared her throat.

"Jacie Jeppson!" Before anyone else could even raise, their voice, I yelled at the top of my lungs.

" I VOLUNTEER!" I ran toward the platform as fast as I could, before even Lace could get un-stunned enough to pipe up a weak,

"I volunteer!" A few seconds after me. No way was Jacie getting all the fame and glory in my family. No way.

"And what is your name?" The escort asked me. I smiled back, completely pleased with my decision.

"My name is Alex Jeppson. I volunteer for my _sister._" I sneered, although it was only visible to Jacie. I was going to finally be noticed. The escort clapped her hands.

"Isn't that sweet?"

"Yes ma'am." Oh, yes. Vengeance is sweet indeed.

**Blain Sype, 18.**

The girl on the platform is younger than me. Lace didn't volunteer in time. Thank God. As the escort, Glendora Laming, walks over to the boy's bowl, I glanced over to Cyprus. He glared at me, an almost inhuman smile playing on his features. Oh, yeah, good luck out shouting me. Time seemed to slow down as she unfolded the slip of paper, and she barely started to say the lucky boy's name when I and Cyprus both yelled out

"I VOLUNTEER!" At the same time. Since we had yelled at what seemed as the exact same time, we both went forward. Two Peacekeepers stopped the both of us. After someone exchanged a few words with Glendora, she announced over the microphone,

"It seems that one of our potential tributes has exceeded the age limit." Her voice was strained, angry. Cyprus paled.

"It's my birthday today."

"So you're 19?" I yelled back. He nodded, sadly, and the Peacekeeper forced him into the adult section, Dyprus yelling his head off. Before Glendora could say anything else, I went to the microphone, and loudly announced, "I am Blain Sype, and I will be District One's newest victor." I flashed a smile to Gala, who I saw in the seventeen-year-old's section, beaming brightly at me.

"Well, two volunteers!" Glendora was beside herself, even though it usually happened every year. She grabbed each of our hands and turned them towards the sky. "Your tributes!" Everyone cheered. I don't know whether I'd ever felt so happy.

**Alex Jeppson, 17.**

When they put us in the rooms where we would get to say our goodbyes, I awaited my family. No one showed up for a while, and that made me start to think that no one was going to come. But after forty-five minutes of pure nothingness and boredom, my parents walked in. My dad was smiling brightly, and my mother quickly gave me a very large hug.

"We are so proud of you, sweetie." My mother purred, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "What you did was very brave."

"You'll win for sure." Dad said, tears of joy threatening to spill from his eyes. A Peacekeeper walked in, to escort them out, and they each gave my goodbye kisses. "We'll watch every moment!" The door slammed, and then it was quiet. Chase came next, messing around with something in his hands. He had been crying, I could tell.

"Hey." He muttered.

"Hey."

"Why'd you volunteer, Alex?"

"Why not?" She stared at me, knowing there was a reason. I sighed, and leaned back in my chair. "You and Jacie always get the adoration, the love, and I thought it was my turn. I'm going to win, Chase." He nodded.

"I know." He gave me a hug, and left something in my hands. It was a charm bracelet.

"Chase, I-"

"Shh. Win it for me, ok, Alex?"

"Ok." The Peacekeeper didn't come this time. Jacie walked in a few minutes later, and we sat in silence until the Peacekeeper came to get her. As she was leaving, she turned around, look me in the eye, and said:

"Alex, you're going to die."

**Blain Sype, 18.**

"I told you I'd get him, didn't I?" Dylan, Hailden and I were all laughing. "You should've seen his FACE!"

"You're totally going to win it."

"I know." Dylan's face brightened even more for a split second.

"Hey, dude, I got this sweet thing for your token." He held out a bottle cap.

"What's that? I questioned, flipping it in the air.

"A bottle cap. Pre-Dark Days. It's really valuable, you may want to keep it. If you want."

"Awesome, man. Thanks." I love my friends. I really do. After they left, my mom came in, and just said things like 'I love you so much,' and 'You'll do great,' and reassured my more for her benefit than mine. The last person to visit me was none other than Gala.

"Well, you said you would do it, and you did it. You beat Cyprus. Not bad." She laughed.

"I do what I can." I flirted.

"Hey, you go and win these Games, and I'll be waiting back here. Don't let those Capitol girls get to your head." I laughed.

"Alright." The door opened, and I could tell a Peacekeeper was coming to let her out. "You take care of yourself, now."

"I will." She winked. Ah, Happy Hunger Games indeed.


	2. District Two Reapings

**Brigid Perrilloux, 15.**

Today is Reaping Day. The day when all the Careers in my district rip their necks out to get a chance at the Hunger Games. They train their whole lives, and for what? One chance at the big-time, and even then the odds aren't exactly in your favor. I've been training for three years, my dad made me, and I don't like it all that well. Why should a strong, healthy member of District 2 not like training? Because I'm terrible at it. Right now, all of the potential Careers were all up for a very early training. Out of all the districts, I think we take the Hunger Games the most seriously. Which other district makes me wake up at four in the morning for a two hour practice? So far, only Two.

"Brigid! Mummy needs you!" I sighed, my little sister Genevie running wild through our house. Of course she would be excited for Reapings. She's already being trained as a Career, and she's only nine. Both of my sisters and I are trained, extensively. Rina's twenty, and some girl beat her out on volunteering when she was eighteen. That same girl was killed horribly, and I have to say that Rina was quite satisfied. I pulled the brush through my thick ash-blonde hair, but it seemed nothing I could do would make it stay flat. "Brigid!" Genevie yelled.

"What does she need?" There was a brief silence, and after no response I went back to gently working the brush through the crazy amount of tangles. "Tell her that I'm getting ready."

"She wants you to put on a dress." I sat the brush on the shelf, and it decided to fall off and land on my foot. So now, I had to hop through my house with a bleeding toe and a massive headache from the awful hairbrush. As I carefully jumped through the living room, Genevie stopped to examine my toe.

"You stubbed it."

"No, the hairbrush fell on it."

"You have weak toes."

"That's not very kind. I bet that if a hairbrush fell on _your _toes, your toes would fall off." Genevie laughed. I could tell she was trying very hard not to buy it. As she began to shake her head, I interrupted. "Oh, no. It's happened to several people up at the Training Center. People you don't know."

"Are their toes gone forever?" She asked, her eyes wide. I love telling stories like these.

"Yes. Especially Lurline Gemmel's. She has to wear fake toes so that no one knows that her toes actually all fell off." Lurline Gemmel was the first name I could think of, and also was the name of the nastiest Trainee my age. Whenever it came to fighting, it was 'Lurline Number One' in nearly everything. Swords, archery, hand-to-hand combat, you couldn't beat Lurline. So naturally, she was pure evil. And always content to pick on me, the 5'8, skinny kid who was always last in everything that we did. 'Frigid' was what she called me, a nickname. I had no idea what it meant. Was I cold? I walked into my mother's bedroom, and across her deep green bedspread lay a grey dress with a white sweater. "That's for me?" She nodded, and went back to fixing her makeup. I shrugged. It wasn't very flashy, but I didn't really care about clothing. A slipped it on, pulled the sweater over my shoulders, and went back to my bedroom, to repair my toe, which my mother had conveniently not seen. What a wonderful start to my day.

**Hector Hannon, 17.**

"Hector."

"Hmph."

"Hector, get up."

"I don't want to go to school, its…hmph." I covered my head with my pillow as someone opened curtains and let sun shine brightly into my bedroom. "Go away." I unstably waved my hand. It was early. I don't like waking up.

"Hector, it is almost eight o'clock. Mom let you skip out on early morning training, since its Reaping Day and all, and you need to get ready." The voice of my younger sister, Cassandra, explained. She was really the only one in our family who could wake me up in the morning. Wait a minute. Eight? Oh crap. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. I threw the covers off of my face and sprinted towards the bathroom. I hopped in the shower and got out as fast as I could, and Cassandra, already ready, of course, had pulled clothes out of my dresser.

"Where are Mom and Dad?" I asked, brushing my teeth. Usually they were here.

"They went to a party. A Reaping Party. You know, to celebrate."

"Are you excited?" For the Games of course. My favorite time of the entire year. One lucky kid's chance to bring honor to our beloved District 2. And we usually did. Out of all the districts, we probably had the biggest victor pool. Because we train, we fight, and we win. Cassandra sees it that way too, but I ask her just to clarify.

"Are you joking? I've been waiting since last year." She threw me my clothes, black dress pants with a black shirt. As I put them on, I walked with her into my parents' room, where I took a silk blue tie from my father's closet. Even I had difficulty tying it, so again Cassandra did it for me.

"Where's Helen and Iris?" I asked, referring to my other sisters. Cassandra thought for a moment.

"Helen's with a group of friends, it's their first year., you know. Iris is with Mother and Father."

"Alright." I headed to the door. "I'm going to meet up with some friends, can you handle yourself?" Cassandra nodded. "That's my sis. See you at the reapings." I closed the door behind me, and I could hear her yell;

"Happy Hunger Games!" In farewell.

**Brigid Perrilloux, 15.**

Dania Chasser, my best friend, and I walked along a street, away from the square and away from the training facilities.

"I like District Two." She suddenly announced. I wasn't very surprised. She normally would say the weirdest things, but she didn't even like the Games.

"Why?" I asked. Usually she was all 'District Two and the Games are unethical and terrible,' but we trained nonetheless. I didn't really care, the Games are just something to deal with, and if our parents say to train, we train.

"Because, the odds are always in our favor. We'll never be reaped, as long as there are people our age." That's true. There hasn't been an actual reaped kid from District 2 since I could remember.

"People like Lurline. God, I hate her." Dania looked at me solemnly for a moment, then her face changed into some ridiculous expression that Lurline would make.

"You just hate me because I am so incredibly beautiful!" She cried, her mocked voice imitating Lurline's just about perfectly. "I don't pick on you; you force me to enforce my leadership!" I joined in. We equally hated Lurline, because we were the ones in last place. In tournaments, combat, we never came up top.

"Dania, are you wearing the same training suit as me and everyone else here? Why, I sure do wear it better than you." We turned a corner, and continued down the heavily decorated street. I swear, it's like a bunch of Capitol loonies came and exploded. And it wasn't just near the middle of town, either. The whole district. The clocktower in the square rang a few times, I wasn't paying attention enough to count the chimes, and the voice of our escort came over the loudspeakers.

"Ladies and Getnlemen, you have one hour until the Reapings shall begin!" Awesome. Another hour to kill. Hopefully Dania and I will be able to avoid Lurline altogether. If not…

**Hector Hannon, 17.**

"Listen, Emil, I don't have time right now." I complained as a boy from the training facilities asked me to teach him how to do a block I was so well known for. "Maybe afterwards, ok?" I was on the top of my game. My previous popular reputation had been elevated to almost celebrity, since I had made it _very _clear that I was going to volunteer. I'm capable, perfectly capable. I'm just over six feet, and training since I was really little seemed to help out in the muscle department. I'm strong, and rock hand-to-hand combat. In fact, I've only ever been in a fight at school once. I let the kid off easy with a broken nose. No one ever tried to question me after that. I'm very popular with everyone at the school, so naturally, when I started telling people I would be volunteering, the ladies went wild. Our home phone (Which we are very fortunate to have, living in the wealthier regions of District Two) was practically ringing all this weekend. My father almost ripped it out of the wall. I was surrounded by friends, and was going to honor my district by winning the Hunger Games. Of course, all of my friends were going to volunteer, they'd spent their entire lives preparing, but everyone knew it'd be me. Even my little sister knew it. Little seven-year-old Iris tried to give me her teddy bear as a token. I let her keep it. I wasn't going to need a token. That'd only distract me by making me think of home.

"Boris, you have to hit the sword like _this_." I demonstrated to one of my many onlookers. I'm awesome at remembering people's names. "And not from the front. Because then, I could counterattack with _this…_" I pretended to stab him. "And you would be dead." If my mom saw me she would kill me. I was sparring in a suit, wearing my father's blue tie. When the bell announced it was time to sign in, I walked with two of my closest friends, Leopoldo Shoats and Lanny Kirvin.

"I am going to SO beat you, man." Leo laughed.

"No way, I'm going to shout the loudest. They won't be able to hear you." Replied Lanny. The Peacekeeper signed us all three in, and we were guided to the 18-year-olds section.

"It'll still be me, guys. I don't know why you're still hoping." All of us started laughing, not really aware of the fact that if one of us was the tribute, (which was very likely) it would tear our friendship apart either by jealousy or death. The escort from the Capitol prepared to give a short speech, but it turned out to be much, much longer than just plain 'short.'

**Brigid Perrilloux, 15.**

Dania and I stood impatiently in the fifteen-year-old section, we being separated from the boys. There was something about this Reaping that made me want it to be over with as soon as possible. Dania didn't seem to feel the same. She cheered along with everyone else, as did I, but she was actually cheering. I was just yelling because everyone else was, and it gave me something to do. When the escort started to give her annual speech, Lurline found the pleasure to come and talk to us. "Hey, Frigid. Why don't you speak up?" I remained silent, because it was the polite thing to do when an escort is giving a speech and a terrifying bully is yelling at you. "Tell us all what you're really thinking." I sighed, and started to walk away. Lurline grabbed my arm and spun me around. "I wasn't done talking to you."

"I'd wish you'd unhand me."

"Give me one good reason why."

"We'll compromise. I'll give you three. One, it doesn't do well for your image. Two, it makes you look like you may not find the company of men suitable." I sneered, "And three, the reapings have started." Lurline stood, a little dumbfounded, but then she got her bearings back and started insulting me again. Round one was over. The escort finished her 'little' speech and started walking to the giant aquarium of names. Somewhere in the distance, I heard a cry of:

"Ladies' Turn!" Lurline glanced at the stage, and focused her attention back on me.

"So, you gonna volunteer or what? I'd bet you wouldn't survive two minutes in that arena, even if you got on the Career's good side. I bet you ten bucks you would die such a violent, horrible death, and I'd laugh watching. Yeah, Perrilloux, I'd LAUGH!" The escort picked the slip of paper. And now I was getting pretty angry. Who was this Lurline, what was her right to insult me, why the hell does she even CARE? "I'd laugh if you died. I'd laugh-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I screamed, pushed over the edge by the Career. I immediately covered my mouth in surprise and horror. Lurline pushed me forward, and I would've said something else if I hadn't been overcome with shock. What had I done? I almost tripped as I walked up slowly to the stage. The peacekeepers 'assisted' me up the stairs, in the same manner Lurline had talked to me. The escort asked me my name, and I was speechless. _What had I done? _

**Hector Hannon, 17.**

The girl was sobbing. The volunteer…was sobbing? She could barely say her name before she collapsed into even more tears. One less hard opponent in the Games, I suppose. Or one less decent ally. The escort walked to the boy's bowl, and I looked at Lanny and Leo. We all nodded, and on the count of three, (which we all mouthed silently) right as the Capitol Lady was opening the slip, we all cried:

"I VOLUNTEER!" At the top of our lungs. Except, I was a little bit quicker. I shrugged at them, but Lanny didn't seem angry. Leo did though. Leo looked crazy. Oh well. I made my way to the stage, as my friends and other people from my schools cheered.

"And what is your name?" The escort asked. It wasn't very uncommon that two kids would volunteer, so she didn't seem very surprised. I smiled and took the microphone from her, in a non-forcible way, and yelled

"I am Hector Hannon, and I promise to bring honor and glory to District Two in the 68th Hunger Games!" More cheering. I spotted Leo and Lanny in the crowd. Lanny was cheering, but Leo was staring daggers at me. I shrugged, as to say 'Should've been quicker, man.' He left in a hurry. The girl tribute and I shook hands. Even though she looked helpless, there was something unsettling about her. Maybe she could be an ally. Just maybe. But, I wouldn't worry about that right now. Soon, everyone in all the Capitol will know who I am.

**Brigid Perrilloux, 15.**

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This can't be…I didn't mean…oh what had I _done? _I didn't mean to volunteer, and now I'm going to die. I could've never been reaped, never had to worry about this, but I had to go and _volunteer. _Now I'm going to die. The boy tribute, his name was Hector or something, had a way better chance of living than me. After all the cheering was over, they took us to small rooms inside a large building. The final goodbyes. I sobbed into my hands. Why did I do that? My sister Rina came in first, and offered some words of condolence, but she knew that I'd win. Thanks for the pity-party, Rina. We all know I'm going to die. My parents and Genevie were next, and right as my parents saw my face, they came and gave me a giant hug. My parents both had tears on their faces, but were beaming all the same.

"A bit early, Brigid my dear," My father said, wiping his glasses on his shirt. Careers here usually waited until they were eighteen to volunteer. "But I know you'll do wonderfully."

"Thank you, Father." Genevie came forward, holding something in her hands. "Is that for me?" She nodded, and then burst into tears, hiding her fact in my mother's skirt. I gave her a hug, and then it was time to go. Dania didn't come. I'll probably never see my best friend ever again. What had I done?

**Hector Hannon, 17.**

I was told the Peacekeepers had to let me pick who I wanted to say goodbye to, there were so many. I finally settled on just my family, Lanny, and a few girls from the training facilities. No one cried. Well, except for my mother, but those were tears of joy. My father called me 'opportunistic' for volunteering when 17, and Iris tried to give me her teddy bear as a token again. I gave it to her, and moved its head so it looked like it was talked.

"Hey, Iris, your big bro is going away soon, but he'll be back, so just name your teddy after him if you get lonely." I said, in the teddy bear's voice. Helen came next, and told me that she was confident that I would win. Lastly, Cassandra came up.

"You win this, ok, Hector?"

"You got it."

"Awesome. I can't wait to watch you."

"Take care of them, ok? While I'm gone, you're the one in charge." She smiled.

"Bye, Hector." And they were gone. Lanny just explained how awesome it was that I was tribute, but that Leo wouldn't speak to him either. When he left, a group of girls came in and just started admiring me. That helped get over the whole 'I wrecked my friendship by volunteering' thing. And for one moment, when one girl was telling me how handsome my blue eyes were, I felt a pang of fear. _What if I didn't come back? _Then I shook it from my mind. I was the most capable, so I'd win. Simple as that. The girls were escorted out. Ok, Capitol. Here I come.


	3. District Three Reapings

**District Three! Here's one for you, and one for me! Tell me, should I do reapings for all the districts or spilt them up between, say train rides and training sessions? Don't forget to leave a review with your answer!**

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**Mallia Jensen, 14. **

"Do we really have to go to the reapings?" I asked. "We can hide from the Peacekeepers." My mother laughed.

"No, Mallia, we have to go. It's a law."

"Mom…" I whimpered. The Games, in my opinion, were terrible. My best friend, Lila, had died in them two years ago, when we were both twelve. No one volunteered. I've always wondered why Three isn't a career district. I mean, we're smack-dab in the middle of them all. Then why do the kids from Three die every single time? Except some lucky few times, when an exceptionally strong or fast person was reaped, but even then their chances are slim. I twisted a wire in my nervous hands, as my mother finished brushing my long red hair, and pulled it back into an intricate bun. The dress I had chosen from my closet, which was a green, cottony dress that was my older sister's, brought out my green eyes. I had to wear her hand-me-downs, since she was older and I was 5'9. "I don't want to."

"I know, sweetie, but we have to. If you're worried it'll be you, it won't. There are thousands of names in there, and just because you took the tesserae this year doesn't matter. You'll come home tonight, and not have to worry about the Games until next year." I'm sure she said that to convince herself, and not me. Lila's mom had been one of her close friends, and when Lila died, her mother went crazy. They had to lock her away in the asylum. No one's heard anything of her since. My mother left to go help my younger siblings change. I sat at the desk, messing around with a light bulb and a battery. I tried not to think of Lila, how terribly her death had affected me. I should've gotten over it by now, it had been two years, but there's something about seeing your best friend's neck being snapped on television that doesn't really leave you. I took the wire I had been playing with and attached it to the battery, and the other end to the light bulb. The light bulb lit up, and I smiled. Electronics had always been my 'thing.' Original for District Three, right? I don't care. Electricity is awesome. And there's just something about working very hard to create a complicated circuit, and then it works, that brings a smile to my face.

"Hey, Mallia." My twin brother pokes his head in my bedroom. "It's almost time to go." I sighed. I'm content with my batteries and light bulbs. Why do I have to leave them now? I pushed in my chair and followed him.

"Lead the way."

**Rain Nimond, 17. **

I sat at the table eating breakfast with my little sister, Amorra. She's as nervous as heck because it's her first reaping. I tell her to not worry, that I've been in the reapings for five years and haven't been picked yet.

"There are so many kids out there. How could they pick you out of everyone in the whole district?" She half-heartedly poked her eggs with her fork.

"I don't like the Games." She mumbled.

"Yeah, me neither." I looked at her clothes. She was wearing her pajamas, as was I. "Hey, it's almost time to go. Are you wearing that?" She glanced down at her clothes and broke out into a grin. "I didn't think so. Go change, you crazy." She laughed and disappeared into her bedroom. I picked up her dishes, and balanced mine on the crook of my elbow, and took them over to the sink. My dad was already at work, and my mom was in bed, sick. I took a tray of food I had made for her, (although the quality of this meal was questionable, as we in Three are not known for our skills in baking) into her room, and laid it by her bedside table.

"Rain, is that you?" She mumbled.

"Yeah, Mom. I put your breakfast on the table if you want it."

"Thank you. Is Amorra dressed for the Reapings?" I nodded my head. "Are you?"

"No." She gave a weak chuckle.

"Well, go then. Your father will be there, but I've been cleared by the mayor to stay home. You don't get picked now, alright?" I started to leave, to get ready myself.

"Yeah, Mom. I won't."

"I love you." My hand stayed on the doorknob.

"Love you too, Mom." I made my way to my room, where I slid on a suit that used to belong to my uncle. Amorra came in after a while, and asked me to do her hair. After a while of trying to figure out how to create a simple ponytail, I just helped her brush her hair and left it at that. Her silver dress made her look a lot younger than twelve, and suddenly I became very nervous. _What if she was reaped? I couldn't even volunteer for her. _But she wouldn't be. She's only twelve.

**Mallia Jensen, 14. **

I found myself half an hour later being nearly dragged through the crowd to the registration table. I sign a piece of paper, and they direct me to a section with G-14 sign taped to a rope. My brother waved to me, and it took everything in my being not to yell out to him, for him to come and get me. He crossed the square and took his place with his friends, and then I was alone. I looked around the cramped area with fear, and sadness. I remembered exactly where I was standing two years ago, the look on my face when the ridiculous escort called out her name. Her face when she looked at me, silently pleading for me to take her place. I couldn't though. It's my fault Lila's dead. I had to get out of there, or I would lose it. I glanced over to the adult section, and saw my parents staring worriedly at me. I gave them a weak smile, pretending to be all right. I couldn't keep that charade up though, but I had to try. The anthem of Panem came over the loudspeakers, and a video came on the air, talking all about the Dark Days and the History of Three. The few victors from our district sat on the stage, some looking relaxed, others stiff and terrified. The escort went on a spiel and went over to the ball. I hope it isn't me…

**Rain Nimond, 17. **

I sent a silent smile and a thumbs-up to Ammora. She smiled back, and then looked at her shoes. The other kids in my section looked far more interested in each other than they did in the video, and I struggled to hear. I starched my head in agitation, messing up my hair I had spent less than two minutes trying to fix.

"Hey, Rain, I hope your sister doesn't get picked for the reapings." A boy from my class expresses, and by the look on his face, I know he's being genuine. Thanks for making me think about that. Now, besides me to worry about, I also have Amorra. The escort finishes up the video, and walks in his heels, (Which is odd, considering he's a man. Oh well, can't blame the Capitol,) and swishes his hand around inside. It takes forever, stirring up the girls' names, saving some, dooming one. I feel my hands involuntarily clench into fists as his voice booms.

"And the female tribute for the 68th Hunger Games is…." He lifts a delicate finger and breaks the tape. I feel sick. Please, oh please don't let it be Amorra. "Mallia Jensen!" He yells. A small circle forms around a girl near the back. A little girl, her first year in the reaping, was screaming. A man, just a few feet behind my parents, wiped tears off of his face. She's very pale, and I feel sorry for her. It took her a while, so long that Peacekeepers started making their way towards her, but then she walked forward. Or, marched forward. The escort uttered some words of congratulations to her, and walked across the stage. It was the boys' turn.

**Mallia Jensen, 14. **

How did I know that it'd be me? That I would soon take my place beside Lila once again? Only after two years…I assumed I was too stunned to feel anything. When I walked up to the platform, the very feminine escort smiled an unnatural smile at me. I had to keep a calm head. Keep calm. I saw my brother crying, my sisters and parents weeping. I have to be strong. For them. I forced a smile and waved. The escort called out my lucky partner's name. Rain Nimond.

He joined me on the platform, smiling, but I saw an immense amount of hurt in his eyes. I felt bad for him, but worse for myself. Then I realized something. I'll win. I'll win for me, my family. I will win for Lila.

**Rain Nimond, 17.**

No. This can't happen. Who'll take care of Amorra now? My father and my sister were in the room with me, the metal walls made me feel cold and exposed. My dad and I talked mostly, about fighting strategies, and Amorra couldn't talk without crying. Finally, she mustered up some courage.

"You….You said you wouldn't get picked." She cried. "You promised." I gave her a hug.

"I'm sorry. But, hey, at least you didn't get picked. That would've really sucked." I saw almost the hint of a smile, and she put something around my neck. It was a key hanging on a necklace.

"You can have a token. It goes to one of my charms." She said, gesturing to the key. "If you wear it, the key will answer any problem you come across." I hug her again as they leave silently. Then I'm left alone. My father says my mother doesn't know, and that he won't tell her. She's going to find out eventually, and I hope it doesn't kill her. If there is a God in this awful world, please take care of my family while I'm away.


	4. District Four Reapings

**I am SOO, so very sorry that this took as long as it did. I have excuses, but they aren't enough. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the next one should be out really soon! (Oh, and repeated from last chapter, should I continue on with reapings or have 5-8 train rides, 9-12 training, etc., or would you rather just have all the reapings?) Please leave a review, they make chapters come faster! Thanks!**

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**Pike Reef, Age 18.**

"Hayle." I poked my little sister. "Hayle, it's time to get up." I announced in a somewhat sing-song voice. An arm flew out from under the covers, and I barely had time to move before my younger sister smacked her fist into my face. She rubbed her eyes.

"Today's reaping day." She said, not really excited or scared. "My name's in for the first time." There was a crash of a plate in the kitchen. Oh great. Dad's up.

"I know. But you know, you'll never be in unless you want to. We're a career district. There's always a girl to volunteer." She shrugged as she made up her bed. "Where are Trout and Sandra?"

"I just woke up. I don't know." I patted her shoulder. I've never really been close with any of my sisters, because I've tried to make sure that when I went into the Games, and if I died, they wouldn't take it as hard as they did when my mom disappeared. After the boating accident, my dad went insane. Drinking, wasting all of our money on liquor. He practically handed me over to the trainers, and I've been working for the Hunger Games since I could remember.

Let me tell you about the District Four trainers. They play mean. If you mess up, especially if **I** mess up, they beat you. Sometimes it's just a bloody nose, sometimes you're in the hospital for a month. It's a crappy system, but it's the only one I can remember. I got lucky this year. My trainer, Jorah (Who also happens to be a victor, and one of my best friends) supervised my training for my final chance at the Hunger Games. They say this year is going to be one of the best. I don't doubt them. I threw some clothes I thought suitable for the reaping into a bag, and left my small house in a hurry, headed straight for the training center. As the sun peaked up over the tops of buildings, and the salty breeze of the ocean carried itself throughout the town, I walked quickly, trying to get there as fast as possible. So naturally I was terrified when I was suddenly knocked to the ground. A figure dressed in black held a broken glass bottle to my neck. I was pretty amazed that someone that small could tackle me, 6'3 and 224 pounds.

"You're going to have to have faster reflexes to win the Games, Pike." That voice…..

The figure took off her hood, and it turned out to be none other than my other best friend, Sonya Rivers.

"Go to hell, Sonya." I laughed, picking myself up. A flash of her eyes showed sadness, but then she turned back to her regular cheery self.

"Can you get me directions?" We both laughed.

"Why do you think I'd know how to get there?" Sonya skipped ahead.

"Because you eat babies and human souls!" That's an inside joke we have. A few years ago, when I was 13, little 12-year-old Sonya started to follow me. I didn't know until the sixth time, and she told me that the other careers told her that I ate human baby souls. She doesn't train, and doesn't believe in the Games. I think they're something that'll always happen, with or without me. After a while of skipping, we were still a bit of a ways off from the center, and she walked back to me. "You're going to volunteer today, aren't you?" I nodded. I could see she was trying to keep herself composed. "Thought so."

"Hey, it'll be fine, alright? I've trained. I'm capable."

"Capable of getting your ass kicked."

"I love how you're such an optimist." We almost ran into Jorah, who I guess was looking for me.

"Hey, Pike. Early training. Stay gold. Today's the day!" I laughed, and so did Sonya. We made our way into the training center, and there were already a bunch of kids there.

**Delta Woodrow, Age 17. **

"We could just not go." My brother grumbled, buttoning up his shirt. "Just stay home."

"And miss the reapings? No way." Hawk gaped at me.

"You enjoy the Games?"

"No. But, hey, I've trained for them. And they're pretty logical. I mean, if you thought about it." He ran his hand through his perfect hair, messing it up.

"Delta, you're smart. Intelligent. You could become something great. Are you really going to throw something that valuable away?" I smoothed out my pink sundress, and slipped into my flip flops. My mom didn't think they were very appropriate for the reapings, but I didn't mind them. It's not like anyone would be looking at my feet, right? My younger sister, Esme, waltzed into the room then, looking ridiculously overdressed. I had to leave the table. Esme, my dear sister, is the most annoying person I've ever met.

"Mom, I'm heading to the training center!" I yelled in the direction of my parent's room.

"Alright, but don't rip your dress." I faintly heard. My parents love the Hunger Games. Of course, they always wanted what was best for us, but that and fame plus fortune were always at the same level. I wasn't actually going to do any training this morning, but it made me laugh to see the last minutes potential tributes scrambling to get last minute things out of the way. Yeah, I trained, and yeah, I was pretty good. Not the best, but still pretty good. I could probably could use work on hand-to-hand, but I was more of a ranged person. My parents were even more excited than normal today, one because it was the reaping day, which in our district is more of a party than New Year's, and two, it my brother's last chance to volunteer. He'd trained, and my parents so desperately wanted a child of theirs to win the Hunger Games. Over and over again Hawk had refused, and I swear if he could, he'd start his own little revolution. But somehow, I'm convinced he's going to volunteer. If not him, then who? I walked along the path; the warm sun was an early indicator that today was going to be hot. I passed a lot of kids from the center, and they all said 'hello' and went on their way. Then, I decided I wasn't going to go to the training center. Reaping days are always bittersweet. It gives the lucky boy and girl the chance at the big-time, but district four doesn't win _every _year. I've never lost anyone particularly close, but I know people who have. And it's a little agitating when the Victor comes through, to bask in the glory, to look into the faces of the families of those they killed…I don't like it one bit. Instead of taking the street that would've lead me to the center, I took a different one, one that took me to my favorite place, the beach. I pulled my long brown hair back in a ponytail. Ah…the beach.

**Pike Reef, Age 18.**

"Alright, so then you want to hit this guy _here,_" Jorah instructed, using his one arm to hit a training dummy, "So you can knock him out. Damn, Pike, I thought you were tribute-ready."

"Sorry." I muttered. For some reason, I couldn't focus. I don't know if it was nerves, or what, but I was edgy. Sonya sat on a bench by the door, kicking her feet back and forth, trying her best to ignore all of the other trainees. After punching it a few more times, I blinked a few times, and then turned back to Jorah. "Hey, I think I'm gonna call it quits for today. My dad'll be wondering where I am, and the reapings and all, so…"

"Yeah, go on ahead, you've earned it." I took a deep breath as I took off the pieces of protective 'armor' we all wore. They make it way too tight. Sonya joined me as I walked out, the giant glass door reflecting the bright red of the center that clashed against the mainly cool-toned district.

"Ugh." I groaned. "I don't like early morning training. I'm so tired of it."

"You can quit." She sang.

"Mer."

"Don't 'mer' me."

"I will if I want to."

"No." She looked at my t-shirt and shorts, the ones I wear when I train.

"Are you wearing that to the reapings?" Reapings? Reapings wha-Oh gosh. OH NO! I completely forgot! I ran off, my bag flung over my shoulder, hitting me as my feet hit the pavement. I ran into my house, ignored my dad, who was half-sitting/half-lying on the couch, drunk as a snail, mumbling insults. I threw the bag in the sink of our house, and hopped in the shower.

"Pike!" My sister, Trout, yelled at the top of her lungs while she beat on the door. Out of all of my sisters, I think Trout likes me the least, but that's only because we'd probably get along the best. "Get out of the bathroom! It shouldn't take you this long!" I pulled on my clothes, and looked myself over in the mirror. I ran a hand through my wet light-brown hair, trying to get some of the water out. I wore my nicest clothes, which were actually borrowed from Jorah, since my dad hasn't paid for me since my mom died. As I exited the bathroom, I threw my towel on Trout, which caused her to hit me on the arm. As I passed the living room, back outside to meet Sonya, I saw my dad had passed out on the couch. Well, Dad, you're not going to have to yell at me for much longer. I have a plan. And either I'll die, or you'll have to not hate me.

**Delta Woodrow, 17.**

There are several reasons why the beach is my favorite place. One, it's a stereotype. _Everyone _in District Four likes water, right? Two, I grew up here. I learned to swim just after I learned to walk. The ocean's my home, and there's nothing like sitting, listening to the gentle waves crash against sand, all by yourself. It's quite an amazing feeling, really. I mean, I _know_ I should be getting ready for the reapings, and I _know_ that what I'm wearing isn't really that dressy, but honestly, who cares? After a few minutes, I walked to the waterline, and let the waves catch my feet. I worried about Hawk. What if my parents got through to him? What if he did volunteer? Would he win? Probably, but still. I would never want to watch my big brother, probably my best friend, battle to the death on television. I checked my watch. I still had fifteen minutes before registration started. I decided to go early, and apparently, so did half of the district. One of the disadvantages of living in a Career district, I guess. I stood in the line, the bright greens and deep blues of the Justice Buildings making it appear as if we were underwater. Right as I was about to go to my section, someone touched my shoulder, and I turned around. It was my parents, and they were each wearing a smile of pride, and weariness, as if they had just lost a battle. Oh…

"Sweetie, how are you?" My mother cooed.

"Good, Mom, I'm going to go get in my section now, so if you'll excuse me-"

"Delta, Hawk is refusing to volunteer." I caught Hawk's gaze as I looked over to his section. He shrugged, and laughed. I rolled my eyes back to him.

"Sorry, Mom." My dad sighed, his usual 'oh, silly child, do you not know what we mean' sigh.

"Delta, what your mother is trying to say is that, for some reason, this is the year that a child of ours will be in the Hunger Games. Esme, as you well know, has made it very clear that she doesn't want to achieve fame by doing work. We wanted Hawk to go this year, since he is eighteen, but he…hasn't been exactly cooperative." Oh…

"We want you to volunteer."

"Me?" Nice going, brain. Who else are they talking to? They nodded, hopeful. "Um, okay. If it'll make you happy." My mother gave me a giant hug, and I realized the escort was halfway through her speech. I waved them both goodbye, and tried to slip into the section unnoticed. Hawk looked at me confusedly.

"What was that about?" He mouthed. I smiled, not to make him think that I was volunteering.

"You're in trouble." I mouthed back.

"…And that is how the Hunger Games began. Alright, now this year, as you all may know, is the Sixty-Eighth Annual Hunger Games, and as always, I assume we have a lot of hopeful volunteers this year." She walked to the names, and took an agonizingly long time to pick one, probably to tick people off. "I must ask you to be quiet until I finish the lady's name, and then you may shout. Alright. Wonderful. Congratulations…."

"I volunteer!"

"No, I do!"

"I asked for silence…."

"I volunteer!" Yells like these erupted throughout the whole crowd, and mine was one of them. Had I been fast enough? Obviously so, because after a few minutes of silence from the crowd, discussion between the people on the platform, and the huffing of the escort, the Peacekeepers finally pointed…at me. I could hear my parents cheering, and the unfortunate girls who hadn't been quick enough were cheering. We in District Four aren't sore losers. I never realized that before, but now I have. I made my way to the stage, and I could see myself on the monitor, blue eyes sparkling. The only thing I'm afraid of is facing Hawk after this is all over.

"Well, then. What is your name?"

"My name….is Delta Woodrow. I volunteer."

"How wonderful! Thank you, Delta."

**Pike Reef, Age 18. **

The girl, Delta, walked up to the stage. The escort dragged on and on again, and seemed seriously ticked off that the girls had interrupted her.

"…And now, boys, I would like it if you would please let me read the name before the volunteers pour in. Show the ladies what _manners_ are." Ha. Usually I wouldn't listen to her, but the escort this year is new, and frankly, scares the crap out of me. And not a lot of people do. She walked over to the giant bowl, and again, just to tease us, took forever to pull out a name. "Wait, please." She opened the slip of paper up. "Hawk Woodrow. Alright. Now you may yell." My voice joined the ranks of others. I knew Hawk, and I knew that his sister was up on the platform. The escort sorted through the crowd, and finally her eyes fell on me. "You!" she cried. "You there, next to the fellow in the green shirt." A couple of guys stepped forward, but the escort shushed them back. "No, not you. Him." I raised my hand.

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Oh, yes. Yes! I made my way to the stage, and looked at Delta. She smiled in thanks. "And what might your name be, sweetheart?" The escort asked.

"Pike Reef."

"Alright, shake hands now." We shook hands. "I give you, District Four, your tributes!" The crowd cheered. But all I could see was Sonya's face. Disappointed. Sad. Broken. Don't you know I'll be back, Sonya? I'll be back. I glanced over at Delta. For me to come back…she'd have to die.


	5. District Five Train Rides

**Nikki Fray, Age 16.**

The train was fast. You couldn't feel it, but I got motion sickness just staring out the window. And there wasn't much to do. I sat at the desk, the one facing one of the windows, writing letters to my friends back home in District 5. Letters that probably would never be sent. But, I always try to find the good part of life.

_Dear Jamie,_

_How are you doing? I hope the house isn't too lonely now. The trains are weird, but the escort says they'll be over soon. The escort's weird too. He keeps talking like these Games are the coolest thing ever. My partner is weird as well. He's only twelve, and doesn't talk much. I think his name is Merril or something. I think I have a good chance of winning. None of the tributes this year really stand out to me. With you and Dad's help, I think I am prepared now. And, since District Five doesn't have a particularly good reputation for winning, I think I'll be counted none too exceptional. It would be really cool if we were both victors, huh? I hope that they'll send this letter to you. _

_ Honestly, I just hope that Mel's ok. You'll check up on her and stuff, right? I hope people miss me, and I just wanted to let you know that I love you, and I will be back. _

_Nikki._

I sealed the envelope, and started on a second copy. I'd give one to the peacekeeper, and one to my mentor. If either one didn't see me through, then I'd figure something else out. The escort said the train rides would be over quickly. He lied. I like to write letters to keep myself from going crazy. My partner, Merril, just stares out the window. He doesn't talk, and neither do I. That's alright with me. We're both dead anyways. I tried to be brave for Jaime, my big brother, but I think he could see through the act. He won the Hunger Games just a few years back, and luckily, he's not a mentor this year. After being forced to watch him brutally kill, for my sake, I know, but still….it was just too much. I couldn't face him when he came home. For a whole year I barely talked to him. I'm not a killer. The only things I've killed are animals, back when my dad used to take Jaime and me out. That's why Jaime survived his Games. Dad taught him how to throw an axe so accurately he could nail any target from twenty feet away. He taught we to throw something a bit smaller, knives, and I was pretty good at them. I've only recently started throwing again, since I stopped after….after my dad died.

Except, he didn't just die.

He was killed right in front of my eyes. If that doesn't mess a kid up, I don't know what would. I hit the pen against a notepad a few times, to try and get the ink out. I tore out another piece of paper to write a letter to my best friend, Mel.

**Merril Neisius, 12. **

It isn't fair. It's not. I'm only twelve. I'm smart. I could've been a doctor. Or a scientist. But now I'm just a dead boy walking. I've seen the other tributes. The ones from One, Two, and Four just look like they're waiting to kill everyone, everything. I mean. I'm only twelve. What did I do to deserve this? I sat at the window, just watching everything fly by in a blur. I couldn't register anything, but I could make out a bunch of trees. I'm not talking to my partner, not even to strike an alliance. I'm dead, and everyone knows it. The escort tries to reassure me, but the mentor, Zoraida Bario, agrees that I'm not going to last very long. She gave me a sit down yesterday, and all she said was:

"You and I both know that you aren't going to survive for very long, but in the time that you have, though it isn't much, I want you to have fun, alright, kid?"

So much for hope in the little guy.

I agree with her though, but I'm not really the kind of person that can look in the face of death and have a great time. Zoraida told me strategies on how she won her Games.

"Don't head for the Cornucopia. Follow someone, make an alliance, stay out of trouble and away from the Career pack." Great advice, but I _have _to go to the Cornucopia. It's the only way I'll get food and water, or weapons if I have to hunt. It's the only chance of I have of survival. I've always been strategic.

"Ok." I mumbled, pretending to be fascinated by the trees outside the window. I glanced over at my partner. She was writing away at the table. She noticed I was looking at her.

"Hello." She said, and then went back to her letter.

"Hi." I looked back out of the window. "Do you think we'll survive?" I think she attempted a brave face, but then she shook her head, as if to chastise me.

"Probably not."

"That's what I thought." She put down her pen.

"How old are you?" She asked.

"Twelve. I'm Merrill."

"Nikki. Well, I'm actually Lilianna Alyss, that's what the posters say, but I go by Nikki." Zoraida left the room.

"Your brother's the one that won, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry that you had to get reaped." She was silent.

"It's ok."

**Nikki Fray, 16.**

I spend most of my time in the main compartment, because our rooms are too….confining. The mentor, who is pretty old, keeps trying to help us develop strategies, but she's not very good. I think she just wants someone from Five to win again, since we haven't won since my brother, and besides for him, Five only has six victors. She has taken a liking to me, because if I can remember, she was Jaime's mentor too.

"So, Nikki, what do you know how to do?"

"I can throw knives."

"Really?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Polite too! I think you have a good chance with the sponsors, my friend." She had somehow gotten Merrill some crayons, and he had disregarded everything we had been talking about, just drawing. He wasn't very good, but he enjoyed it. After another advice session, I sat down to write Mel a letter.

_Hey!_

_It's Nikki. How is life in Five? I hope it's going great, and I hope not too much has changed since I've gone. I like to think of this as a big birthday present from the Capitol. The trains are cool, and there's a lot of weird food. The mentor here was Jaime's old mentor, so she likes me a lot. I feel bad for my partner. He's only twelve. Oh, and good news! The Capitol officials have sent me the 'ok' on the necklace. You know, the one you gave me right after the reapings. Look for it at the Games. Don't be afraid for me, because I'm going to come back. _

_Don't worry, I'll be fine._

_Nikki_

I slid the paper carefully into an envelope, and scratched out her address in pen. After sealing it safely, and got up from the desk.

"Hey, Ms. Zoraida, I have a question." I called. After a few moments, my bubbly mentor came into the room.

"Yeah?"

"How did my brother manage to win? His Games, I mean."

"Your brother? Didn't you have to watch?" I nodded. I remember how my brother won, and I don't like to think about it. However, if I want to get home, I have to know strategies. "He played it down, but not at first. He got in with the Careers, the ones from One, Two, and Four, and killed them all. Then he hid. Somehow avoided mutts. Lived off of the food his victims were carrying." I cringed.

"Please don't call them victims. He's still my brother." Zoraida made a noise that sounded like 'Sorry.' "And, I don't want to kill anyone." She leaned on the side of the train.

"Sorry to have to be the one that shatters your hopes for gritty realism, but killing's the only way you're going to survive, my friend." I crossed my arms, trying to keep my head.

"But I'm….I'm not a killer, Ms. Zoraida!" I cried. Usually I'm not this chatty, but I _have _to win. I _have _to survive. If I die, I don't know what would happen to Jaime, for one, and I also like living. "I'm trained, a little, but that's only on animals!" Zoraida thought for a moment.

"Are you good at hiding?" I nodded. When I was little, I used to play hide and seek with Jaime and Mel. I always won. And, I could sneak like no one's business. "It all depends on the arena. Sometimes, you can have loads of cover, and can just wait the whole thing out. Other times, you're dropped into a field, and everyone gets to kill each other Gladiator-style. No protection. Survival of the fittest and survival of the lucky. Can you adapt?" I nodded my head slowly, not fully understanding the meaning of the question. If by adapting she meant blending into the background while major happenings were going on? Yeah, I'm pretty good with that. But things can get me down. After my father died, I couldn't adapt. I haven't really gotten over his death until very recently, and I'll still cry if he's mentioned. I've never gotten over how my mother left us, Jaime and my father and me…I can never adapt to how people treated me. The kids at school, the Peacekeepers in the Justice Building. Heck, even _Merrill, _treats me like I'm kind of insect, interesting for a brief part of time, and then squished. I don't even like insects.

"I mean, I guess I'm alright at adapting, in the theoretical sense. I can….blend. But not to whole situations, mentally." As Zoraida pondered this, our escort bounded into the room, his bright yellow hair and matching….well…._everything_, and did not help the situation at all.

"Helloooo lovelies!" He cried, swinging his arm out and grasping a banana out of a fruit bowl.

"How are we all today?" I faked a smile, but said nothing.

"Just wonderful." Merrill commented, looking up for an instant, to glare at the escort, then back down to his colors.

"Well, good! We have a very busy schedule ahead of us when we get to the Capitol, so we going to get you all prettied up!" I thought it was hilarious that the escort's comment was directed at Merril, and not me. Self-consciously, I undid my ponytail and let my dark brown hair fall into my face. Merrill followed suit, roughing his hair up. He hated that escort, I could tell. As we all gathered for lunch, I snuck over to Merrill.

"Hey, if you want, we can be in an alliance." His face brightened, and I smiled.

"Ok." He replied. Somehow, I was content that I had brought this little kid hope. I wasn't going to sacrifice myself or anything, but I'd protect him. No one that young deserves to die. The trainworkers brought out the strange capitol food, and I wondered if my brother had felt as weird as I do.

_If you got my letter, Jaime, I just want to let you know that I love you, and I'll be coming back. I won't abandon you like Mom, or get killed like Dad. You'll see._

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**Sorry for the delay, but things have been crazy lately! Don't forget to review, and just because I'm curious….are any of you guys fans of Starkid? Thanks! **


	6. District Six Train Rides

**Corrine Gunderman, 18.**

I don't like trains. Or moving objects. Let's just make it very clear that I like to stay on the ground, and I don't like changes. Ha. Don't like changes. I'm eighteen, and went from a calm and sheltered life under my parents and grandmother, and now I'm on a train, going as fast as possible to our nation's Capitol, where they'll make me pretty, and watch me fight to the death with several other kids. I barely ever went outside, back in Six. I hope nothing will happen to me, the eighteen-year-olds seem to turn out pretty well, but nevertheless, I'm still nervous. I don't mind the dazzling part. But I like stability. I have to prepare for things. There's so much uncertainty that comes into the Games, I mean, I don't know the other tributes, I don't know how to survive, and I don't even know what the Arena will look like. Our escort says this year is special, and we should be excited, but I don't get it. I've only cried, every single moment of every day, it seems. The two mentors in our compartment look at me strangely, and my partner just looks at me like I'm some kind of baby.

"When are we going to get there?" I asked my escort, Farrah Dolsen, who was relatively young. She won her Games about ten years ago, so she was only twenty-seven. However, you could tell being a mentor had taken a lot out of her. She looked around fifteen years older, and her hair was starting to fade to grey. My partner's mentor, however, was very old.

"It takes a few days." She replied, running a hand through her hair, trying to untangle it.

"That's not what the escort said." I whined. Farrah rolled her eyes.

"The escort doesn't know anything. She's batshit crazy. All of the people in the Capitol are. Do you have a brain, kid? We have to travel….halfway across Panem, at best."

"Do you think I have chance at winning?" Farrah paused. I've decided that I don't like her very much.

"Well, let's take a look at you. No muscle, wimpy, and you whine. You are possibly one of the most annoying people I've ever met. No. No, I think you'll die. Sorry, but that's the way these Games work. However, you do have a chance. Work hard, impress people, and maybe some strong person will take care of you. The sympathetic ones are a good target." I looked at the ground guiltily. I didn't want to…_manipulate_ anyone. But, I'd have to. I want to live, right?

**Noah James, 17. **

I twisted the bracelet on my wrist, out of pure boredom. The trains, I think, we just designed to drive terrified tributes insane. There are a few books, but they're just Capitol propaganda. I've looked at them, and they aren't very interesting. Just page after page of _'And then the districts rebelled against their loving, ever-providing Capitol. After many years on needless fighting, and tremendous loss, we let the Districts back into our hearts and forgave them. As penance for their treachery, however, it was established that ever year, each District should send one brave man and woman to fight in the glorious Hunger Games.' _I got about that far in one of them before I had to shut the book. The only source of entertainment around here is the food. I'm no glutton, but I can appreciate what the Capitol has 'provided' us, if only for a short while. I've never seen this much food in my entire life. There's tables and tables on end, and it's all for us. My partner and I. And I can tell that the mentors feel sorry for us. _I _feel sorry for us. Us, that's a funny word, isn't it? My partner, Corrine Gunderman, is eighteen, according to what I've heard the mentors talk about. She's not impressive in the slightest, (I'm pretty sure that I have a shot though, so I'm not that worried.) All she does is cry, and eat. Unlike me, she is in love with the food. Every time she walks by, she always has something stuffed in her face. My guess is that she's trying to stuff her life full of happiness before the Capitol takes it all away. She won't make it very long. I will, though, and I know I can. Why? Because even in District Six, the good old Transportation district, we still have manual labor. I'm strong. I'm used to being hungry. I can work hard. You had to, when you're in my position. I came from a family that never had exactly 'what we needed.' My little brother, Gabriel, was sick a lot, and so I had to help my father to bring in extra money. My mother had to stay home with him, and medicine isn't cheap. So not only did the Reapings mess up our whole system, my family will be basically screwed if I don't come back. So, I'm going to try as hard as I can, because everyone knows that the Victor's district gets a bunch of bonuses, and the Victor's family gets to move into the special Village-place. Gabriel would like it there, I know it.

"Noah James, are you listening?" An old man said gruffly.

"What?"

"I'll take that as a no." I yawned.

"Sorry."

"No problem. I just thought you looked like a guy who could handle himself."

"Thanks."

"I don't think we've been properly introduced. My name is Ambrose Loffman, and I'm your mentor." I opened my mouth to speak, but he interrupted me. "When I said you looked like a guy who could handle himself, I meant it. I don't say things like that often. Usually, in fact, nearly every year since I won, my tribute has been some weak-ass kid who dies first. Like her." He pointed over to Corrine, who was crying. As usual. "But you, you don't act like that. You act like you know some stuff. So, before I can help you, I have to know you. Your strengths, namely. And weaknesses." I stayed silent. I didn't feel like trusting this old man, even if he was my mentor. He could sense my uneasiness. "Listen, kid, I won one of these. I think I'd know what I'm talking about." I looked up at him. Sighing, I replied in a monotonous drone,

"My name is Noah James. I am seventeen years of age, and from District Six. I am the first son of Isaac and Luna James, and I have a seven year old brother, Gabriel. I took martial arts when I was a kid, and went to work when I was eleven, to help out my father and the other workers. I got fairly strong. I'm fast."

"How fast?" Ambrose interrupted.

"I don't know how fast. But fast, alright?" Ambrose was taking mental notes, and you could see it very easily on his face.

"What are your weaknesses?" I was getting absolutely fed up with this guy. Was it his right to make me have to talk to him? I didn't want to, and know he's just asking all these personal questions!

"Why the hell do you want to know!" I yelled, standing up in anger. Only a few moments later, I sat back down, embarrassed. Everyone in the train was staring at me, Corrine with her puppy-dog eyes; her mentor, disapprovingly. Ambrose was amused.

"Alright. Short temper. Remind me to write that down." I glared at him. "Well, terrible first impression of me, sorry about that. But, underneath this old man," he gestured to himself, "Is a cold-hearted killer that won the Hunger Games. So, if you have any questions, feel free to ask." He left the room, and headed back to his compartment. Good. I already disliked him. Corrine left her mentor, and made her way to the couch where I was sitting.

"You're the James kid, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well," she sniffled, "I was thinking if you'd like to be in an alliance. You know, kind of like a District Six 'domination' kind of thing." Ha. Like I'd ever….still, I feel bad for her.

"We'll wait for training to see." There, that way I could give her hope, during the last few weeks of her life. I can tell just by looking at her, she won't survive the first five minutes.

**Corrine Gunderman, 18. **

Well, things are working out for the better now. I'm sure that Noah will be my ally, and now my chances for dying are much smaller. It'll be a shame to see him go though. When I eavesdropped on his conversation with his mentor (I couldn't help it, they were practically yelling) his story was pretty sad. I mean, I've never had to work a day in my life, whereas he's been doing hard labor since he was eleven. And what I don't get is how some can give up comfort for a sibling. I'm an only child, so I've never had to deal with anything like that. After half-listening to Farrah ramble on about some kind of weapon and fighting techniques, I went back to my room, to mope around some more. I tried pulling my frizzy brown hair back, but only resulted in breaking the only hairband I brought. I looked into the mirror across my bed, at my freckled face and mud brown eyes. I tossed my shoes at the wall and peered out of the window. I was not ready for this.

**Noah James, 17. **

After a few days, I started warming up to Ambrose. Involuntarily, I bet, but we've come to a mutual agreement. He doesn't piss me off, and I don't yell. His words, not mine. I honestly don't think that I'm that mean, but I do like to distance myself from people. I sat at the table, the rich intricate carvings I knew could only come from our neighboring district, Seven. Corrine has kept her distance, and thank god for that. She's really annoying. There wasn't any food on the table currently, but as Corrine's mentor had explained to me. I played with the bracelet my little brother, Gabriel, gave to me. He had spent a while on it, and it was woven with red and yellow strings. I think he was trying to make it look like it said 'NOAH' but it looked just like a weird design.

"You got a kid sister?" Farrah asked me. I looked up, and shook my head. Holding up my wrist in display, I answered.

"Brother. He's seven." She smiled.

"I had a little sister. Before I won. Can I give you some advice?"

"You're not my mentor-"

"This….isn't about the Games." She paused. "I've seen the other tributes, they make us watch all the reapings, and you've got a fighting chance. But, if you win, just….just do whatever the Capitol says. They'll hold things against you. They'll take away everything that you love. I lost my little sister two years after I won." I was stunned. I didn't know that even after the victor won they were still in danger.

"Ms. Farrah, I-"

"No, it's fine. Just do what you're told, alright boy?" I could tell she was holding back tears.

"Yes ma'am."

My list of things to worry about has just increased.

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**Alright! Here is District Six for you guys! I hope you like it, and don't forget to review! **


	7. District Seven Train Rides

**Hey guys! Happy summer! Just one more train ride and then we're IN THE CAPITOL! Isn't this exciting? I hope you guys like these tributes, and don't forget to review! (It just may helps your tribute's chances in the arena, hehehe)**

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**Flint Oakley, 18. **

I can't believe I lost it. I had it in my pocket this morning, and now it's gone. There were no holes in my pants; I checked them three times over. I looked all over our compartment, but couldn't find it. My token was gone.

"Hey, Hedeon?" I called to my mentor. "Have you seen a rock around, anywhere?" My sister's favorite rock. Nine-year-olds are so hidden to the real world. Little Cynda didn't realize that there was a good chance I wouldn't be coming back. She had kept that rock since she was seven, and made me promised to bring it back to her. If I died, I don't know how my dad would take care of all of my siblings without me to help out. I've been taking out tesserae every year, so getting reaped was a pretty likely chance. So now I have to win. I have to so that Anna, Axel, and Lucas don't have to take tesserae and be reaped either. I have _got _to win this.

But so do the twenty-three other tributes.

"Sorry, son. Can't say I have." My middle-aged mentor sighed. I lifted up a cushion on the couch, throwing the bright orange pillow onto the ground. Some pamphlet about last year's Games was lodged in under the other cushion. I threw the second pillow, nearly knocking a vase off of the coffee table.

"WHAT are you doing?" A ridiculous accent cried. I turned slowly to meet the fuming face of a pale green face with bright blue neon tattoos. The district seven escort….. "_What are you doing to the loveseat?" _

"I was looking for my token, alright? It's a rock. Have you seen it?" The escort ignored me as she scurried over to the couch, fixing the pillows in a near-perfect way. "Hello?" I was ignored yet again, so I started to search the other 'loveseat.' The escort almost lost it as the yellow and green patterned pillow struck her in the face. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o' as it fell it the ground. There was a long pause, as she tried to compose herself.

"Little boy, I must say that you are the rudest little tribute that I have ever laid eyes on. And that is _saying_ something."

"My name's Flint. Not '_little boy.' _And _you _are the rudest, most annoying **CAPITOL** toy that I've ever met! If you're not going to help me find my rock, then get the hell-" I stopped myself. I get angry very easily, but I've been working on keeping it under control. The train lurched as it went through a tunnel. The escort stormed out of the room. Good. One less negativity in my current situation. My district partner, Wilhemina, came to see what was the matter, as well as her mentor. Seeing as the escort had gone past them when she fled the room, both of them were laughing.

"Well, it's about time something interesting happened on this train." Wilhemina laughed. "It's been awfully boring." In spite of his foul mood, Flint couldn't help but smile.

**Wilhemina Malavet, 15.**

Finally! Finally some action, something other than watching the Capitol's commercials on a never-ending loop. Finally someone was doing something other than eating! You have no idea how excited I was. Usually all there ever is going on is that idiot escort rambling on about this or that. Boredom is my worst enemy. I had to go so far to steal my partner's token for some action. And, boy! Was that productive. Not only did I almost cause a fight, but the escort stormed off and the front compartment's a wreck! I couldn't help laughing my head off, and neither could Aspen. Aspen's my mentor. She's in her seventies, and doesn't quite know about my 'evil scheme' but laughs because there's finally something to laugh about. I helped Flint pick up the pillows and straighten out the cushions, still laughing. In all reality, our scenario wasn't that funny; but everyone's been in a depressed mood ever since we got on the trains. I don't know why though. It's the Hunger Games! They're exciting! And District Seven will finally have their long-awaited tribute this year. Because I'm ready for anything the Capitol's got. I've prepared. It was just luck that I got reaped. Pure, sheer….

Luck.

"Hey, Wilhemina, you would've happened to see a rock anywhere?" I shook my head as Oakley looked at me with hopeful eyes. "About, this small and dark gray in color? It's yellow and blue on one part of it, and the name Cynda is colored in with green." I took an apple from the table and started the short walk back to my compartment.

"Can't say I have. I'll keep an eye out for it, though."

"Yeah, thanks…." As soon as I was out of eyeshot, I slid the rock out from under my sleeve. Yeah, big, tall, Blue-Eyes is soft for material possessions. That'll come in handy. I let it fall from my hand onto the ground, and waited a few moments, before crying.

"Hey, Oakley! I found the rock!" Not two seconds later, he bounded into the hallway. "It must've fallen out of your pocket or something this morning." The look he gave the rock almost made me feel guilty. "That your token?" I gestured to it, trying to make conversation. Of _course_ it was his token. He nodded. "This one's mine." I dug in my pocket until I found the worn coin. As I handed it to him to look over, I tucked a stray strand of light blonde hair behind my ear. "It says my name, right there," I pointed, "And that's Ezra's name. He's my boyfriend. No-….friend that's a boy. A guy friend. Ezra _isn't _my boyfriend." I laughed, and could not believe that I accidentally said that Ezra was my boyfriend. Ezra has been one of my best friends since the beginning of forever. He was one of the few kids in Seven that actually liked the Games, like me. And sure, growing up I may have had a little crush on him, but nothing very serious. At least….I think.

"Cool. Thanks, again for finding it. I'd be so lost." He handed me the coin back and I slid it into my pocket. So I guess stealing things and pretending to find them again is a great way to make allies. Yes, I'm going to win this thing.

**Flint Oakley, 18.**

I looked at Hedeon confusedly as he walked around me in a circle.

"Yes, you're very tall and strong, aren't you?" I nodded. "Agile?" I shook my head. "Quick to anger." He said it as a statement, not a question. I reluctantly nodded. "What are your strategies in the Arena?" I thought for a moment.

"Get to the Cornucopia, and take everything I can carry, within reason-"

"WRONG!" Hedeon cried, his eyes shining. "You beware that bloodbath. When the timer ticks; and ticks it will, _the longest minute of your life_, you better run as fast as you can in another direction. In training, meet a smart, pretty girl to ally with. But don't ally up with Malavet. There's something off about her, I can tell."

"Alright. Don't go towards the Cornucopia. Then what?"

"Well, it really depends on the Arena. What would be your next plan?"

"Um, I'd make shelter out of branches or something as soon as I got far enough away from everyone. I'm pretty handy with an axe. Lumberjack and all." Hedeon nodded.

"What would you do if there's no trees?"

"Make shelter out of something else."

"Like what?" I know these are stupid, but they are useful. I doubt that the Arena won't have a forest, they do almost every year. But it doesn't hurt to be prepared, right?

"Well, in my Games, there was just a plain, giant field. Second quickest Hunger Games ever. It took us not but two days to kill everyone."

"How'd you do it?"

"I literally stayed on the ground the whole time. Nearly died of dehydration, but I didn't. Eventually, the Careers stopped looking for me and killed each other. The last guy, the remaining Career, was really confused when the victory cannons started blaring when he killed his partner. I snuck up on him, clean shot with a knife right through the eye. I was never the same again." He paused. "But I guess the moral of this story is that even if you can't hide, at least blend in. Be sneaky. That's something you could use work on. If you can, get cozy with the Careers."

"No way."

"Don't be childish, it helps."

"No! No, I hate these Games and refuse to like the Careers. I'm not getting 'cozy' with them." Hedeon sighed, and turned the TV on. More Capitol news about the tributes, the people that are going to be dead very soon. He paused on the face of a handsome, tall young man with black hair. The District One tribute. He let the television play for a moment before he paused again; this time on a short, strawberry-blonde haired girl with a crooked nose. Again, and the smiling face of blue-eyed, sandy-haired eighteen year old stared at him. Three more people passed, a ash-blonde fifteen year old girl, a dark haired girl, and finally a light haired boy. Their names, Blain Sype, Alex Jeppson, Hector Hannon, Brigid Perrilloux, Pike Reef, and Delta Woodrow flashed across the screen.

"These are this year's potential Careers. You feel comfortable, looking into these kid's eyes and killing them? All of them will be dead. Maybe one won't be. But if you want to win, all of these nice, young folks will be slaughtered."

"They don't look particularly menacing."

Gideon chuckled.

"They never do. But then, BAM! They kill you. I bet this one's-" He hit the TV lightly with his walking cane, smacking the District Four boy in the face, "Would get you down in…..six seconds?"

"Thanks. That makes me want to try so much harder." I replied sarcastically, throwing an orange at the wall. As it fell to the ground I swore I could hear the escort yell:

"_What….was….that?...Mister Oakley!" _Hedeon hit me lightly on the arm.

"That's your cue to run, kid. Think of this as special training. Running from the Capitol crazy. Oh, and just to let you know, we get off at the Capitol tomorrow. Have your things packed, and a plan ready. It's all downhill from here." I made a mad dash for my room, and grabbed a seat at the desk, and fresh Capitol crossword puzzle on the top. I attempted to look like I was actually trying as the escort stormed into the room.

"Young man, did you throw that piece of fruit?"

"I don't know exactly, but do you know what 'Beloved leader of Panem' is? Four down." I was playing down my dumbness for her. She scoffed.

"Snow! Everyone knows that, you stupid little boy." She paused. "Well, if you didn't throw the orange then who did?" I shrugged.

"Maybe Hedeon? Or Wilhemina. She's devious." I threw the newspaper at the trash can as the escort left. God, I hated that woman. But as the lock on the door clicked shut, I began to think about what Hedeon said.

All downhill from here?

Really?

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**And there you go! **


	8. District Eight Train Rides

**Last train ride! On to Remake Center and Training Next. We're Almost in the Arena! So close...**

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! (These tributes were so much fun to write)**

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**Ember Hotchson, Age 16.**

"Do you have anything to do?" I asked my mentor. "Anything…besides sitting? We've been on this train for a really, _really _long time."

"We'll be in the Capitol tomorrow." She answered, looking bored. "So just be patient." I sat in silence for about three seconds, before I got off of the bright blue couch that gave me headaches.

"How many years have you been mentoring, Coir?" She continued her bored, constant stare at the scenery outside the window.

"Fifteen." She answered, almost automatically, as if she had answered that question millions of times.

"Oh. What was the arena like when you won?"

"A desert with a lot of bushes."

"How'd you win?"

"Luck."

"Oh." My mentor was not that friendly. "Hey, Avish?" I yelled to my partner. "That's your name, right?" He poked his shoulder-length light brown hair into the sitting room.

"Yeah?"

"How'd your mentor win his Games?" He paused, trying to remember.

"I think he hid. Maybe he killed some people." As I was about to speak, Avish interrupted me. "Oh, no. He hid until the Career pack was halfway gone, then went full-out warrior on them. I've seen the video. And it wasn't too terribly long ago, either. This is only his fourth year mentoring." I tried to remember District Eight's last victor.

"Oh yeah! I remember now!" Surprisingly, Avish and I were getting to be pretty good friends. He was a pretty cool guy. I'd never met him before, since I'm sixteen and he's only fourteen, and he also lives in the wealthier parts of Eight. We've already decided to be allies, since we're both pretty stealthy, and hiding out seems to be the best way to survive. Not to mention the fact that he's half blind, and could need another pair of eyes watching his back. And my hearing isn't too great, but his is amazing. We'll make a great team, his mentor even agreed. However, it makes me a little sad to know that one or both of us will be dead in less than two weeks. I hate the Games, like most people in Eight, but he doesn't really seem to mind our situation. I'm just worried about my sister, Fiona. She's only six, but it's always been her and me, ever since our mother died. My father's an alcoholic, due to the stress of trying to raise two girls by himself, but he didn't do anything. It was me who had to get the jobs, me who had to find the food. I was pretty malnourished before I got reaped, always making sure Fiona got enough. But they give us everything and anything on these trains. I feel like one of those ceremonial pigs that they'd feed, and make really pretty, and then slaughter. That's basically what the Games are, in a sense. A wild, unpredictable feat for all of the Capitol and the Districts to enjoy. Well, I'm going to live. You just see.

"Hotchson!" The escort called. She doesn't like the name Ember, so she's taking the liking of calling me by my last name. "It's time for supper! Don't want to be scraggly and thin for the Capitol tomorrow, do you?" I rolled my eyes. Some things never change.

**Avish Cerrall, Age 14. **

It's strange, isn't it? That someone like me, fourteen, handicapped, '_weak'_, should already be put down, so early on before the Games even start. Nobody's said anything in particular, but I can tell that all of the adults in the District Eight compartment of the train doubt I'll survive much longer than the first seven minutes. But I will. I don't exactly know how, yet, but I'll survive. I can escape almost anything. And, I know not to go to the Cornucopia, unless there's something I really need. The escort says if I win, they have medicines and doctors in the Capitol that can fix my eye. I don't really want it fixed. My right eye and I kind of have a system, and if my left eye was fixed, everything would be off-balanced.

"Avish." Someone snapped their fingers at my face.

"Hmm?"

"Are you listening?"

"Oh, sorry, yes."

"Ok." My mentor sighed. To be only twenty one and be as sad as Bilden, I don't know who would want to win the Hunger Games. Unlike several other victors, he hadn't turned to alcohol or drugs after he won, so he's just one big lump of sadness. "If there's a forest, don't head for the Cornucopia. You can get firewood there, and set traps. Also, you two don't plan to fight very much?" Both Ember and I shook our heads. "Then spend as much time in training learning to do other things. Traps and plant identification can save your life."

"We can't try any weapons?" I asked. Bilden furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, trying to decide whether it was a worthy idea or not.

"Yeah, do that. Your arena may not have a forest, and if it doesn't, you have to run quickly to the Cornucopia and take the bare minimums you need. It is a bloodbath." I know, I watch the Hunger Games every year. "Then hole up, go on the defensive. Leave the tribute-hunting to the Career districts, but you may have to kill." While I was mildly horrified (I mean, just the thought of _ending _someone's life) Ember just shrugged and continued eating the weird looking chicken they had brought out for our dinner.

"Well, I am absolutely beat!" Chirped the escort. She hopped out of her seat and started to leave, saying, "And tomorrow we end up in the Capitol, so be sure to wash up! No doubt that your preparation team will have a **lot **of work to do!" I managed to laugh as Ember held her fiery red hair protectively.

"No one is touching my hair."

"We'll just have to see about that." Brederie laughed. She had only introduced herself to us yesterday, and it was her first year as an escort. She insisted we call her 'Miss Brederie Anglaise,' so I did. Ember had taken to calling her 'Bro-Dairy.' "Now off to bed, all of you!" Bilden and Coir shared a confused glance and Ember raised a finger to 'Bro-Dairy,' her mouth still full. So when she said:

"I'm not done eating." It sounded like 'Ahm nod bun eedeen.'

"Maybe if you did not stuff your face and used proper _manners_ like a real lady, you could finish." So, to humor Brederie, Ember neatly put her silverware down, made sure her expensive Capitol napkin was neatly folded on her chair, and doing all of these things greatly exaggerated, she went back to her room. Somehow, on this train, I feel as if things aren't really as bad as they seem.

**Ember Hotchson, Age 16.**

The next morning, I surprisingly slept in. As I opened my eyes, I was alarmed by giant mid-morning rays of sun. I threw the elaborately designed comforter off of my body, and sprinted towards the bathroom, to get ready as fast as possible. Brederie was ruthless in her '_if-you-miss-breakfast-time-you-miss-breakfast' _deal. And I like the breakfast on the train best of all. Plus, today we were arriving in the Capitol, and I had to make a good impression, according to Coir. 'You have to get sponsors or you won't survive,' that's what she told me. I was still buttoning up my blouse as I ran blindly into the dining room, which was connected to the den. Everyone was happily munching down on pancakes as I flung myself into my chair, running my fingers through my still messy hair. Brederie pursed her bright red lips together, and cleared her throat very daintily, to get my attention.

"I do hope you'll be washing your hair, Miss Hotchson." I raised an eyebrow at her. Duh, I was going to wash my hair. It looked awful. I really wish that people wouldn't mess with me in the morning. I gave a tired 'humph' in reply, and poured an unhealthy amount of syrup onto my three pancakes. I was malnourished, alright? "We'll need to get the both of you looking reasonably presentable." She gave us both a warning look. "So go on now!"

"I just started eating!" I yelled, accidentally spilling syrup onto my pajama pants. "And I didn't miss the time. I have at least ten more minutes. Leave me _alooooone,_" holding out the 'o' for emphasis. She left, accidentally leaving her bright orange shawl behind. As soon as she was out of eyeshot, I took it and wiped the syrup off of my leg. "Serves you right," I mumbled under my breath.

"She's really pleasant." Avish laughed, handing his dishes to one of the Avoxes. "I'm going to take a shower. See you guys later." Coir scowled at me.

"You don't have to be so mean to Brederie." I raised up my hands in innocence. "She's seen a lot." Oh, _Bro-dairy's seen a lot?_

"Sorry, _Coir, _but a cushy life in the Capitol doesn't seem like a lot to me. I think I've seen a lot more than she has." My mentor stared at me, as if to say 'Like what?' "You want to know?" She nodded. "My mother died when my sister was born. We had always been relatively poor, but when Mother died, my dad went kind of psycho. He took the little money we had left, spent it all on alcohol. He had a terrible temper, and go into drunken rages. I'd take my little sister, Fiona, and we'd hide in the attic whenever they got too bad, but sometimes I wasn't quick enough." I held out my arm and pointed at a particularly bad scar. "He'd hit us, kick us, but I'd always make sure he never got Fiona too bad. I've had to drop out of school to get a job so we can eat, I've taken out the tesserae like, ten million times." I could sense the awkwardness in the room rising. Coir stopped scowling, and Bilden was just staring. "That's the reason I got reaped, alright? So…don't look at me weird."

**Avish Cerrall, Age 14.**

I stared out of the window, as we neared the Capitol. It was so beautiful, and yet so cold at the same time. It wasn't at all as I had pictured it. I thought it would be flashier, but there's not a lot of color variation. I guess that's because we're on the outside of the Capitol, and we can't see many buildings. Definitely different. Brederie was freaking out, getting everything perfect, yelling after Ember to get ready, who was running around the compartment with soaking wet hair. (Luckily clothed. I have no idea how any of us would react to that.) She insisted she trim my hair (Even though we'll be heading off to the Remake Center when we get to the Capitol) so my normal shoulder-length cut replaced by a cleaner, closer style that got to just below my ears. Bilden tried explaining to her that we have prep teams for that, but she was too nervous. I'm still convinced that if the Games were as cool as the Train Rides, everything should be ok for me. It may not do to well to dream, but if it's hope, it's useful.

"Hotchson! Come back so we can dry your hair! We are almost at the station!" Brederie squealed. I could hear Ember yell something back, and then a hairdryer started blowing. These cool, Capitol hairdryers only take a few seconds to dry hair, as opposed to the twenty minutes Ember was screaming it usually takes. She came back into the room, perfectly dried hair and scowling.

"She touched it. I told her not to, and she did." I laughed, and then pointed out of the window.

"We're almost here." She rolled her eyes. "What?" I asked.

"Now it's time for the fun to begin…" The train started to slow down. I saw that she held a tiny picture of someone that shared her red hair, but had pine green eyes different to Ember's icy blue. "You got your token?" I shook my head.

"I didn't bring one."

"Why?"

"I couldn't decide what to take." We were interrupted by Brederie's regular freak out.

"WE ARE HERE!" She yelled, making sure everyone looked nice. "Now, we'll get off, and you'll head to the Remake Center. They'll get you under control, and looking all nice." I glanced out of the window. Yeah, I underestimated the Capitol. Rainbow buildings. _Rainbow buildings! _And rainbow people, with overly-exaggerated features. Bright pinks, electric blues, painful yellows. They started cheering as we pulled into the station. One of them caught my eye, and started waving like her arm was falling off. I gave her a quick nod, and rushed to sit down, away from the window.

"Oh gosh…." I whispered while Ember refused to get anywhere near the window. This is going to be interesting….

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	9. District Nine Remake Center

**Sorry for the delay! I went to my Grandma's house and she doesn't have wifi...but the good news is that I got about three chapters written!**

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**Abohe Greene, Age 16.**

"Do you dye your hair?" The perky woman, Aelia, asked me. I was lying on a table, almost completely naked, with my Capitol prep team taking care of all of my 'imperfections.' I glanced over to where Aelia, her literal white skin splashed with periwinkle polka-dots, held my white-blonde hair in between her delicate fingers.

"No, ma'am. It's natural." She gasped, her Capitol accent almost making me laugh. Not to be rude of course, I'd never be rude, but just because it made everything she said sound utterly ridiculous.

"Natural?" There was only Aelia and a man named Ovidius on my prep team, probably because I wasn't naturally hairy or gross. She pursed her lips and tapped her boot against the cold metal of the Remake Center floor. It was freezing on bare feet. "I think that with what Sabine is going for, if we put a little dab of color here," she pointed to my eyes, thinking out loud, "We could…..Ovidius, what do you think?" The man smiled, and peered at my face, as if I was some kind of china doll put on display. I haven't enjoyed one moment of this 'remaking,' and I'm scared out of my mind for the Games.

"Oh, yes." An unnaturally deep voice, with an equally elaborate accent agreed. "These Games are going to be so much fun!" I closed my eyes, waiting for the 'remaking' to be finished. After they finished with my eyebrows, they rubbed a pleasant-smelling lotion on my arms, legs, chest, and anywhere else they did damage to. (I assume it was medicinal, but I don't know for sure) After a couple more minutes of plucking, they stood me up, wrapping me in the soft white robe.

"You look _beautiful!_" Aelia squealed, almost jumping up and down. "And you'll absolutely **stunning **when Sabine is finished!" She turned to Ovidius, shaking with excitement. "I'm _SUPER _happy right now!" Ovidius gently took her arm, trying to calm her down. I think that they're siblings.

"Let's go get Sabine for Miss…..um…..." He paused. "How do you pronounce your name, dear? Ab-o-he?" I shook my head, and recited that my name is pronounced 'Ava' like I have done a million times for everyone I've ever met. The District Eight escort still called me 'Ab-o-he' even though I had tried to remind her nicely that that wasn't how my name was pronounced.

"It's pronounced A-va."

"Alright, Miss Abohe, Aelia and I will go and get your stylist. She's _dying _to meet you!"

"Thank you." I mumbled, feeling very tired. From the little window letting light in from the outside, I could tell it was late afternoon. I waited a few moments, and then an elderly lady pushed open the door. Her skin was pulled back so far, it made my eyes hurt just to look at her, as if her baby-pink dyed skin would split if she attempted to smile. But, she did smile, and her grin was so big that I could see her hot pink tooth caps, giving her the impression of fuchsia fangs. It was….frightening. I could remember Sabine from several past Games, and she had a terrible habit of dressing District Nine in the same, plain Baker outfit.

"Hello, darling! How are we doing today?" She shrilled.

"Pretty good, thank you." She took a seat in one of the grey chairs. Sabine crossed her legs, and tapped a long finger against her cheekbone, thinking. Her fingernails matched her teeth.

"Are you excited for the Games?"

"Not particularly, sorry."

"I get that all the time. I don't know why you wouldn't be though. Glory! Honor! A chance at…..wait for it…..FAME AND FORTUNE!" She finished. I looked at my toes, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Well, I guess it's better than my situation back in Nine."

"Oh." I think she got that I didn't exactly want to talk about it. She looked around the room for something to talk about, and then let out an excited 'Ooh' when she remembered.

"So, there's this new thing that I'm trying with my tributes, and that's to get to know you and you can get to know me, so that I can design something that's totally, 100% YOU! So, I'll start. My name is Sabine, I was born in the Capitol around, well, a lady never reveals her age. I've always wanted to be a stylist, so around thirty years ago I was the District Twelve stylist. I worked my way up, but found that I liked District Nine the best!" I think it's because she isn't very good at styling. "I love the color pink, and my poochie. And lots of other things. Now tell me about _you!_" I shuffled my feet uncomfortably.

"Well, my name is Abohe Greene, spelled A-b-o-h-e, I'm sixteen, and live with my grandmother and brother, Amos. He's twenty, and I live with my grandmother because both of my parents are dead." I tried not to give away the fact that my grandmother makes my life very difficult, blames me for the death of my mother, and hates me with a burning passion.

"Tragic. If it doesn't seem rude, how did they die?"

"Well, my mother died in childbirth, and my dad died of a broken heart, I guess. No one ever really was clear about that with me." Sabine nodded.

"That…..that is very sad. I'm sorry, darling." She patted her hair to make sure it was in place, and stood back up. "So, as you probably know, we stylists come up with all of your outfits, from the Chariot rides, interviews, and if you win, the Victory Tour! So, what _La Sabine_ and Gaius have been thinking of for the Chariot rides is a magnificent, stunning….baker's outfit. How does that sound?" She stood, eyebrows high, waiting for positive response. I didn't want to hurt her feelings but District Nine was always dressed up like bakers, since we are the district that supplies grain.

"Oh, yes. That sounds wonderful. Thank you." I just wanted to leave. Go back to Nine, even if I had to go back to my grandmother. I wouldn't mind her yelling if I could just _stay alive…_

My prep team rushed back into the room, talked to Sabine about make-up techniques, and then I was back on the table again. Sabine rushed out to put some last-minute touches on my costume.

I think it's awful, just awful. Usually I can keep calm and collected in stressful situations, and I did. At least….at the reapings. When we got on the train, I was pretty ok as well, but the first night in my compartment, alone….

I lost it. Who wouldn't? Getting your named pulled is almost a definite death sentence. And I don't want to die. I don't think I've ever cried so much in my life.

Oh, if there's a god, please help me.

**Aldrian Dusk, Age 17.**

"So you like the idea?" Gaius smiled. I couldn't care less about the chariot rides, so I smiled back and nodded.

"Sounds great to me."

"Wonderful!" He clapped his hands together. As my stylist scurried out of the room, giggling to himself, I let down my act and collapsed in a chair. I held my head in my hands and took five deep breaths. This is happening too fast. Just a week ago, I was working, supporting my mother and little sister. I needed to take out tesserae, but the odds were _supposed _to be in my favor…

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It was supposed to be someone else. My family can't possibly survive without me. I ran my hand through my thick black hair, trying to think. My prep team rushed in, holding the ridiculous baker's outfit, and dressed me up. It took a while because the outfit was a little more complicated than I thought, with a course, creamy-white shirt with puffy sleeves that tucked into blue denim overalls, with an added apron and one of those cliché floppy hats. Although, as they spun me around to look into the mirror, I pulled it off pretty well. I was rushed into another room, where they put makeup on me (much to my distaste, might I add) so that I wouldn't look washed-out to the cameras. Just a week ago, I was working in the fields, and the Capitol didn't want anything to do with me. Now, I'm going on parade. It's all so confusing and strange. I was taken to an elevator with Gaius, my prep team, Abohe's prep team, and Abohe. I gave her a smile and a nod. I don't know her very well, but we're partners, and may have to put on a show for all the citizens of the Capitol. The steel door opened, and a smell I've never smelled before hit my nose. The smell of…horses? There was a chariot right in front of us; four creamy white horses that match our shirts were tethered with rope, trapping them against the cold chariot. As the Capitol attendants wrangled us into the chariot, I glanced around the virtual stable at the other tributes. To my right, there were the tributes from Eight, a girl with bright red hair and a boy with hair that's light brown. To my left were the tributes from Ten, both pale.

I leaned over to Abohe, and whispered:

"Are you scared?" She raised an eyebrow at me, and I let out a half-hearted laugh. "Because I sure am." At my confession, she seemed to loosen up.

"Yeah."

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Thanks." The doors open, and I can see the Capitol waiting.

Well, here I come.

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	10. District Ten Chariot Rides

**Is anyone still reading this? I'm going to continue updating, but if no one's reading, I may stop in a few chapters. So...I hope you guys are still out there, and if you are, enjoy this chapter!**

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**Penny Morris (Sister of Leatta Morris), Age 12. **

I sat on the couch in our small living room, my mother in the kitchen, my seven-year-old sister Cloe sitting next to me. We were required to watch the first official airing of the actual tributes for this year's Hunger Games. There was an empty spot on the couch that, for all of my life, had been filled by my sister, Leatta. A capitol reporter came on the news, and the tiny clock on the television read 7:00. She gripped her microphone in excitement, and started the ever-familiar speech.

"_Hello, everyone, and welcome to the 68__th__ Annual Chariot Rides of the Hunger Games! My name is Cloelius, and I'm here at the President's mansion, where the lucky tributes eagerly await their turns to impress the Capitol." _My little sister looked up at me, smiling.

"The Capitol lady and I have the same name!" Cloe laughed. I nodded, and held a finger up to my lips, silently telling her to be quiet.

"_I'm sure I'm not the only one here that is absolutely ready to be astounded by the brilliance of the Capitol's finest stylists, and the brave tributes that will represent their districts in the 68__th__ Annual Hunger Games-" _Ugh. She sounded ridiculous and rehearsed. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and she looked behind her. "_President Snow is about to make his speech!" _Whatever speech 'President Snow' was about to make, I didn't hear it. I made my way into the kitchen, where my mother was sobbing softly into a handkerchief.

"She'll come back for us, Ma. I know it." I said softly. I could hear the booming voice of our beloved leader rambling on and on about the famous Dark Days, the story I'd only heard a million times. "She wouldn't leave us in the dark." I struggled to find words to comfort my mother. "I can get a job, I could take out tesserae while she's gone-" My mother snapped.

"No. No, I can work extra shifts. No child of mine will ever take out tesserae ever again." She gave me a hug, and knelt down on her knee so that we were at eye-level. "And I'm certain that Leatta will come back. She's determined, and she knows what she's doing." She sighed, and wiped at her eye again.

"Really?"

"Really."

**Leatta Morris, Age 14. **

My costume was definitely…..creative? But very, very uncomfortable. The skintight jumpsuit dabbled with black and white spots I could've dealt with, but the bright gold tulle bow tied in the shape of a bell was a little too much. I glanced over to my district partner, Kai Deloom, whose outfit was even more stupid than mine. His skin-tight dark pink 'unitard' came complete with a matching bow, except he had a little tail coming out the back. He referred to our costumes as 'unitarded' out of earshot from our stylists. I was nervous, but Kai was shaking.

"You alright?" I asked him. He looked at me, and we held eye contact. "So that's a no, then?" He let out a forced chuckle.

"Yeah, that's a no." The doors in front of our chariot were still closed, but I could hear the booming voice of our president, delivering his speech to his thousands of adoring fans. "You got a family back home?" He asked. I mock-gasped.

"Not of my own! But, yeah, my mom and two sisters. What about you?"

"No-one. Dead mother, and dear pop tossed me out." I raised my eyebrows in curiosity. "Couldn't feed me." Normally I would try to stay as far away from Kai as possible, that had been what I'd done since the reapings, and that he was going to die. Because I'm going to win….I hope. Even though I know I don't have much of a chance. And I've heard that getting close to people doesn't help. It can drive you to insanity when they get brutally killed in front of your eyes. Relationships are a weakness…right? But I figured now was ok. We could both use a little humor to help our nerves. We _were_ putting out for the very people that could save our lives. I hope the Capitol people like me, although the facts are against it. Everyone knows the Capitol loves the wealthy districts, relatives of those who have won in ages past. Bored on the train, I watched tapes of previous Games, and made statistics.

"I hope we get sponsors." I whispered, crossing my arms. I hope the speech was over soon.

"Yeah. It could really help. Assuming we survive long enough to become a fan favorite." I flashed him a look.

"Don't think like that. Of course we'll survive."

"You don't really believe that." I searched for the right words to reply, but right then, the doors opened. It was time for the Chariots to begin.

**A Citizen From the Capitol.**

I cannot believe that the Hunger Games are already here! I haven't picked a favorite yet, because I always wait until the training scores and the interviews, but I really have my eye on District 4's Pike Reef. What a handsome boy! I sat dutifully through President Snow's important speech, and then a lifted up my opera glasses at the opened door way at the end of the Chariot's Route, and the first chariot that opened. As a hopeful future stylist, I was shocked silly (in a good way, of course) at the District One tributes. The girl, Alex Jeppson, was dressed in a full length white gown that fluttered behind her. Her partner, Blain Sype (Another _very _handsome fellow) matched hers with a white suit just dabbled with white sequins on the shoulders, to complement Alex's diamond earring and necklace. I loved the pureness, just telling us 'Hello, Capitol! We are the clean and innocent District One!'

The District Two tributes drove out next, were both dressed as Roman stonemasons, very fitting for their district! Brigid Perrilloux's stick straight ashy hair was pulled back in intricate braids, perfectly pinned in place. Hector Hannon's muscular build was shown off in a sneaky one-sleeved warrior-styled uniform. They smiled and waved, sending off the vibe 'We're from the bloodthirsty Two, but we can be sweet as well!'

As the District Three tributes rolled by I turned to my dear friend, who was already betting.

"All of my money's on Mr. Hector Hannon. He'll win for sure." He smirked. I shook my head, pointing down to the District Four chariot, where Delta Woodrow was draped in seaweed, ever proving the rule that a dress should 'Be long enough to cover everything but short enough to be interesting.' It was quite revealing for a lady of her age, but the stylists are geniuses! My favorite, Pike, was dressed in a silver jumpsuit, with a headpiece resembling a shark's head.

"Mr. Pike Reef or Delta Woodrow is where I'm betting." My friend shook his head, laughing. "Who do you think will die off first?" He raised his glasses and pointed to the District Five boy, Merrill Neisus, who was dressed as a giant lightbulb, complete with a soft glowing halo-looking piece. The girl from Five, Nikki Fray, wore a similar costume, except her glow made her look angelic.

"The boy. I doubt he'll last two minutes!" We both shared in our laughter.

District Six passed while we were debating, their train-conductor outfits not really sticking out. District Seven passed too, both Wilhemina Malavet and Flint Oakley dressed in plaid lumberjack suits, looking very camouflaged with leaves entwined in their hair.

District Eight was dressed a magnificent display of every fabric imaginable stitched into a knee-length dress for the girl, Ember Hotchson, and a suit for the boy, Avish Cerral. District Nine was dressed in very classy baker's outfits, with the cream colored shirts matching the horses. I thought this was a very nice touch.

"_**District Ten." **_The president announced, as the duo dressed as livestock rode out. I adjusted my opera glasses and peered at their faces. The poor boy was terrified! Why he would be I have no idea. The Hunger Games are a perfect way to bring honor and glory to the districts! He should take an example from Districts One and Two.

District Eleven's tributes were both an unnatural pale skin tone for District Eleven. Their costumes captured the essence and beauty of the golden plains of Eleven that I've _always _wanted to visit. Finally, District Twelve pulled up the rear by putting on a lovely miner's uniform, pickaxes slung over their shoulders to complete the look. I winced at the girl's deep scars, and felt pity for her. Not everyone can be as fabulous as we Citizens. As they were taken out of sight, I turned to my friend.

"Oh goodness! That was simply marvelous!"

"Oh yes, marvelous indeed. Finest I have **ever **seen."

"I agree with you!" What a wonderful opening ceremony for a wonderful Games….

**Kai Deloom, Age 14.**

Well, that has to have been the single most terrifying thing I've ever been through in my entire life. It was only ten minutes, but it felt like five hours. We were herded into a giant room, where we were dismounted from our chariots and given a few minutes to socialize with eachother while our escorts and mentors finalized plans or something or other. The girl from Nine, Abohe Greene or something, had come to talk to Leatta, so I was left all alone. I was surprised when two kids, at least twelve, came up to me.

"Kai, right? Deloom? Of Nine?" The one with a brown mop for hair asked me.

"Um….yeah."

"I'm Merril Neisus from Five, and this is Douglas Arnold from Twelve." The kid looked nervous, both of them did.

"We were wondering," the other kid piped, "if you'd like to be in an alliance with us. We know it's still really early, but the Career pack's already settled," He gestured over to where the all the tributes from One, Two, and Four were already gathered, and they were all laughing about something. "And we wanted to get one before everyone else was already taken. So, what'ya say?"

"Sure…..I guess. Why not?"

"Sweet!" They ran back to the District Five chariot, and appeared to be fast friends. I sighed, and my stomach felt like it was going to fall out. It's a feeling I get when I'm nervous. The mentors, escorts, and stylists came back from wherever they had left to go, and ushered us all back into another elevator. When ours stopped at the tenth floor, I was exhausted. While my mentor, the Capitol escort, Leatta's mentor, and Leatta ate dinner, I collapsed on a random bed. How could they eat at one in the morning? Before the escort could yell at me to come and eat, I was out. My dreams were filled with monsters, citizens from the Capitol, and my fellow tributes.

**Leatta Morris, Age 14. **

We sat at the fancy Capitol dinner table, everyone from the train (except Kai,) was taking small polite bites in complete silence, except for the escort.

"And tomorrow you and Mr. Deloom will go to the training facility. Apricant, do you have something to say about training day?" She asked my mentor. Apricant wiped her mouth with a napkin, and carefully placed her fork on the edge of her plate. She cleared her throat and struggled to remember.

"Yeah. You need to try to go to every station, but the nature survival is the most important."

"I know nature survival." I tried to explain. Back in Ten, I was known as 'healer girl.' I know virtually every plant, or so I think. Apricant rolled her eyes.

"That's what they all say, kid. Just go and double check. If you want, check out the knives. I don't think you'll be any good with a sword or spear. If there's anything about blowguns, just try it. There haven't been many in past Games."

"Alright. Can I go to bed now? I'm really tired." Apricant nodded. "Thanks." On my way to the bedroom the attendants pointed me to; I peeked in Kai's, to see if he was alright. He was snoring. I laughed to myself, and changed into some Capitol-readied pajamas. The bed was really soft. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

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	11. Dsitrict Eleven Training Part One

**I AM SO SORRY that this took so long to get out. I've written a lot, but I was stuck at my grandma's house with no wifi. Well, the story is no longer on hiatus, and we're almost to the Arena! Get excited! WOOOO! I hope you enjoy training. **

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**8:00 AM**

**District Eleven**

**Sadie Rivers, Age 13. **

The Capitol jumpsuits they put us in for training were uncomfortable. The twenty-four of us were arranged in a perfect circle, and we had to stand on silver painted circles with our District numbers written on them. I was trying to pay attention to a relatively normal Capitol woman who was instructing us on how the training works. I glanced to my left, where several stations were set up. I smiled to myself when I saw the nature stations, since I knew that the best.

"….don't ignore the survival skills. The weapons look flashy, but most of you will die from hunger and disease. Knowing different plant types can be the difference between life and death. Alright. You may begin." I weaved my way through the other tributes, accidentally bumping in to several people and earning a 'Hey!' from the girl from Eight. There was a man at the traps booth that looked bored. I guess not many people went to his station, so that's exactly where I went first.

"Hello?" I asked. "Can you show me how to make traps? I'm terrible at hunting." He laughed, and seemed to be very happy that at least one person was going to learn from him.

"Sure! I'll show you all different kinds of traps for all different types of terrains. What's your name?"

"Sadie. Well, Sadilito. That's what should be on the sheet, but I prefer going by Sadie." He pulled out a clipboard and checked my name.

"Ah yes. District Eleven. Well, come here." He showed me around ten different types of traps, working them all flawlessly. He showed me how to fashion them out of many different materials like tree bark, twigs, long grass, and weeds. After about thirty minutes I still couldn't figure them out perfectly, but I had one or two that could catch something, if I was lucky. I thanked the man (I never had figured out his name) and moved on to the poisonous flora station. The attendant directed me to a sort of database thing, which had only a large screen. A bunch of pictures of plants popped up on the screen, but I had no idea what to do with them.

"You need to touch the ones that are safe for consuming." The attendant explained, obviously understanding that I had never seen something like this computer before.

"Thanks." I mumbled, and got to work. I recognized several off the bat; apples, oranges, blackberries, dandelions, persimmons, and thistles. I poked the screen where I thought a blackberry was, and then slapped my forehead when I realized that it was highly toxic deadly nightshade. I got several others correct, avoided the mushrooms, and only messed up again when I mistook hemlock for a wild carrot. Overall, I earned a 91%, which wasn't too bad. When I finished, there was literally a line behind me. The girl from Five, Nikki Fray, Flint Oakley from Seven, and Abohe Greene from Nine. I nodded to the attendant, and stepped away from the database. As I made my way over to the camouflage station, I was stopped by Abohe.

"Hello." She said.

"Uh, hi."

"I'm Abohe Greene, from District Nine." She held out her hand and I shook it tentatively.

"Sadie Rivers. From Eleven."

"Do you want to be in an alliance?"

Wait, what?

Why would she want me in an alliance? Did she see my plant scores? My traps? I'm only thirteen, and she has got to be at least sixteen. What would she want with me?

She must be looking for a large team. Sure, why not? No one else has asked me.

"With just you?" I asked. Abohe laughed and shook her head.

"No, not at all. There's me, Al," She pointed to the tall District Nine boy who was dueling some Capitol attendant, "and Leatta, from Ten." She gestured over to across the training facility where a blonde girl was trying out some traps, where I had been just a few minutes earlier.

"Sure. Yeah, I'll be in alliance with you. Thanks for offering." She smiled. She started towards the trap station, and the man there smiled and waved to me.

"Hello, Sadilito. Back for more traps, eh?" I shook my head as Abohe interrupted Leatta.

"Leatta, this is Sadie, from Eleven. Sadie, this is Leatta from Ten." Leatta dusted the dirt off her pants, and shook my hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"She's the last one in our alliance." Leatta's face brightened.

"Alliance, eh? I'm Leatta. But Abohe already told you that." Sadie turned her head and noticed that Abohe had left. "Well, what are your strengths?" Sadie pretended to be taken aback. Leatta sighed. "Are you good at anything that would be beneficial to our alliance?"

Who did Leatta think she was asked Sadie her strengths? She sighed, and decided that arguing would not be good for her survival in the Games.

"I'm fast. I know nature very well, and I'm smart."

"How smart?"

"Very smart."

"Really?" She didn't make it sound much like a question. Sadie nodded. Leatta smiled. "Well, luckily for us both, I'm also _very_ smart. So maybe during the Games, if those two," She gestured to Abohe who was quietly talking with Aldrian, "well, you know…" Her face turned solemn. "We could team up. These Capitol goons don't appreciate intelligence. We can play it down, and not be much of a threat. Slip off everyone's radar." Sadie found a smile creeping onto her face despite herself. Her first thoughts of Leatta were simply that she was another target, another enemy. If not first, then eventually. But now that she was sharing her plans with her, plans that _just might work…._

"So, what do you say?" Leatta asked hopefully.

"You have yourself a deal."

**12:00 p.m.**

**Kale Turren, Age 15.**

I sat at the large table they had in the corner of the training ground for lunch. I grimaced as I picked through the unfamiliar Capitol foods and fruits, just wishing for a good, old fashioned, District Eleven apple. I sat near the end of the row, not socializing with anyone. For me, allies are a weakness. They may help you out a little, but in the long run, they're all just targets. I hate thinking like that, but it was necessary for survival. For _my _survival, and the survival of my family. As a Peacekeeper patrolled near the table to make sure no fights got out of hand, I turned around on the bench and yelled out to him.

"Hey!" The white helmet turned around where a black visor blocked eyes. I never liked Peacekeepers, and these ones where worse. It was as if they were robots rather than people. "Do you have any apples or oranges? Maybe something normal people eat?" I was ignored as the Peacekeeper went back to pacing. I sighed to myself. Obviously _some _people here must've missed home like I did.

Yet, as I scanned the table all I saw was tributes laughing and talking. The Career pack sat at the opposite end of the table, all six of them laughing together. One girl, the one I recognized to be from District Two, looked a little nervous, but she was still laughing. Other groups, like the two little kids and Kai Deloom, talked in hushed whispers, sometimes sending the Career group worried looks. By the time the whistle-bell rang, signaling that lunch was over, I hadn't eaten anything, and now I was starving. The tributes made their way back to the stations.

I was one of the last people to walk into the grouping of stations. So far that morning, I had learned how to build a fire with limited materials, learning how to hunt animals with a bow and arrows, and had just started to go to the spear station when we had been called to lunch. So, back to the spear station.

The attendant there was an old man. He was nice enough at a first glance, I decided, but he didn't look like he had much time for errors. A challenge. I like it.

"Hello." The man greeted as I stepped up onto the platform. "Do you have any experience with a spear?" I shook my head.

"No."

"Well, this outta be difficult for you. Take this," He handed me a spear. "Now, hold it in your hand like this," He demonstrated by balancing it where he gripped the spear in his hand, and it rested on his shoulder, "And let it fly." The instructor threw his spear and it landed square in the chest of a target. "Now you try." I tried mimicked his motion, resting the end of the spear on my shoulder, my hand pointing in the air. I closed my green eyes and threw the spear as hard as I could. When I opened them, I saw that it hit the target, a bit off, but still a fatal shot. I didn't know how the instructor would react, so I was a bit surprised when I turned around and saw him clapping slowly.

"So did I do well-"

"It was most likely a lucky shot." He handed me another spear, and gestured to an unabused target. "Hit that one, and we'll see if you can do it again." I exhaled sharply, readied my spear, and threw. I hit the target right in the neck.

"That's good, right?" The instructor nodded.

"It seems that you're a natural. Good luck in the Games, boy." I nodded as the instructor left to go help some girl who told him she was "Corrine from Six." After failing to hit the target at all, Corrine came over to me.

"Hi." She said. I stayed silent. "Spears are hard to throw. I'm Corrine Gunderman. From Six. The District. Who are you?" When I failed to answer, she stepped up to leave. I smirked. It's a habit of mine. I smirk a lot, especially when people annoy me.

"I'm Kale from Eleven." She opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted her. "I don't want to be in an alliance. At all. It's nothing personal, I just don't want to."

"Oh. Ok. Good luck." She left, and I was alone again. Just like normal. And yet, I was surprised. Had I made a mistake turning Corrine down? Was being alone really the best course of action? My thoughts turned to my siblings, Yaden, Imogene, and Wend, my father, and Phina.

_Phina. _

My best friend. Well, more than that for me. That was a good reason to win the Games. _For Phina_, I told myself. _You have to win for Phina._

After the Games, on the victory tour, I'd ask Phina to be mine. Hopefully she'd say yes. How could she not, if I'd won the Games for her? I glanced around the room. I don't want all these people dead. They were kids like me, probably with their own Phinas. But I don't want to die. I don't want to die without Phina knowing my true feelings.

I spent the rest of the day perfecting my spear skill. The instructor didn't bother me, except to help me with techniques. When the escorts came back to well, escort us back to our rooms, I was exhausted. At supper, I only ate a little. I don't like the Capitol food very much. Sadie asked me if I felt alright, and I shrugged her off to leave the table early and plop down in my bed. I changed out of the training jumpsuit into the pajamas that I found in the dresser. I was almost asleep when I realized the light was still on. As I trudged to turn it off, I almost ran into Sadie.

"What the heck are you doing in my room?" I asked tiredly.

"You left this at dinner." She handed me my whittling knife, and a little wooden dog I had made on the train. "It's really good."

"Thanks." I hadn't spoken the thirteen-year-old Sadie much during our 'visit' in the Capitol. I tried to distance myself from everyone, so watching them die wouldn't be as hard. Given, it would still be hard, as watching people die isn't a very easy thing to watch. But if I didn't know them, it wouldn't be as bad.

Would it?

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	12. District Twelve Private Sessions

**Mara Anne Thomas, Age 17.**

I tugged on the neck of my jumpsuit nervously. After three days of training it was finally time for the private sessions with the Gamemakers to see what our training score would be. The score that would, ultimately, decide our fate. People sponsored high scoring tributes, like Careers. However, despite my nervousness, I was confident that I'd get a high number. I've spent nearly all my time at the spear station, and I've gotten pretty good at it. The boy from Eleven, Kale Turren, was always there too, but I never paid him any attention. I practiced and practiced. However, as I stood there with my District partner, Douglas Arnold, I couldn't help but be a little jittery.

I feel weird about being nervous.

It's not an emotion I normally have. I've seen enough things that have hardened my emotion range. When my brother was killed a few years ago in the Hunger Games, it was heartbreaking to all of us, but his reaping just seemed like a terrible chance. When my mother committed suicide after having to witness his brutal death on live television, I thought my life was awful and unfair.

But it was when a fire burnt our house to the ground, destroying all trace of my mother and brother, the house I had grown up in, and all of my personal belongings, that I finally figured out the universe was out to get me.

Not to mention it also severely burnt my face. I couldn't bear the bullying, the names the kids at school called me. When I got reaped for District Twelve, it was almost a blessing.

Also a death wish.

But at least the teasing would stop.

"Mara Anne Thomas, District Twelve." An attendant yelled in a thick Capitol accent. Douglas flashed me a good luck smile and I ignored him. I mustered up courage and walked into the training hall. It was a lot darker than when all of us were training together. I walked towards the windows with the Gamemakers, and stated my name and district, like the attendant had done. A group of old men laughed and I felt the heat rising to my cheeks. _Don't get angry, Mara, _I told myself, _they are the key to your survival. _The weapons rack gleamed in the fluorescent light, and I chose the sleek, steel spear that I had become fond of in the past few days. A target fashioned after a human stood around twenty feet away from me. Only a few of the Gamemakers were watching. I remembered what the instructor had told me, and exhaled. I threw the spear with everything I had, and it hit the target in the thigh. I nodded towards the window, picked up another spear, and threw again.

I missed. I shook my head quickly, trying to get rid of my nerves. _This is important, this is important._ The last spear, my last try, mocked me with its shining glare. I picked it off the rack. I peered behind me to see it perched perfectly on my shoulder. I didn't put all my force in the throw, rather letting my instincts guide my hand. It flew, hit the mark a few inches away from where the heart would have been. A few of the men were slowly clapping, not very impressed.

"Thank you." I said, and turned to leave. Well, if they weren't impressed, I wasn't going to get a very good score. I broke out into a run, nearing the exit, and did a weird cartwheel-flip combination. I left the room smiling. I think I did alright.

**Douglas Arnold, Age 12. **

Mara Anne walked by me, heading straight for the elevator. By the smile on her face, she must've done amazing. She never smiles. A grey-haired lady ushered me into the facility where we'd been training all week. There was a circle where I was to stand, say my name, and show off my skills. The light was too bright underneath the circle. I blinked twice, and wiped the sweat off of my forehead.

"D-Douglas Arnold. District T-Twelve." I had thought of what I might've done, but I couldn't face the facts. I wasn't good at _anything. _I finally settled on the throwing knives. Some of the kids in training were really good, and they weren't even from Career districts. It must be easy, right? There were five knives, each very sharp. I almost cut myself trying to pick them all up, but instead I dropped all but one. "Sorry." I muttered under my breath. I threw the knife in my hand, and it hit the outer rim of an archery target. I punched the air and yelled.

"Yes!" I picked a second knife off of the floor, and threw it. It didn't hit the target. Again, I threw a third. It also missed. The fourth, miss.

I was almost in tears by the fifth. I closed my eyes, gripped it in my hand, and threw…

It missed. I looked up at the men and women above me. Some were pointing and laughing, others simply weren't paying attention. I made my way out with my head hung low.

**Mara Anne Thomas, Age 17.**

Obviously Douglas's session ended terribly, because he was crying in his room and wouldn't come out. The district escort, my mentor, and I were all sitting on the couch, tired and apprehensive. They gathered us around the television in the sitting room. I knocked on Douglas's door, but it was locked and he still refused to come out. I heard the blaring of the Capitol's anthem, and took my place on the couch. The announcers made small talk; highlighting the Career tributes and their efforts in training, as well as a few of the other noteworthy tributes, such as Noah James from District Six and Ember Hotchson from Seven. Then it was time.

Time to announce the scores.

"Starting off with District One," the old man laughed, his flaming orange hair jiggling. A holographic portrait of District One's boy, Blain Sype, as the announcer yelled loudly, "Nine!" My escort groaned. The girl showed up, Alex Jeppson and she received an eight. This went on for a long while, the highest score being a Ten scored by Pike Reef from District Four, and the lowest was Corrine Gunderman and Kai Delloom's, tied at a mere four. District by district they went, until they were finally at District Twelve. I pulled my knees up to my chest, nervousness taking over. "Douglas Arnold," Douglas's straight blonde hair and thick-framed glasses poked out from the door frame. "Three." The door was slammed, and I could tell he was crying again. I wouldn't blame him. He's only twelve.

"Mara Anne Thomas," the announcer called out. My face, scars and all, played on the screen, "with a score of 7." My mentor offered me a tight nod, and the escort was very excited. I was very pleased. Seven is a great score. Maybe I do stand a chance after all.

* * *

**Guys, I am SO sorry for the long wait. I started a new high school, and the work load's a bit extreme, also lack of response led to the wait. Chapters should be coming out a bit more quickly, and I won't make you all wait this long again. Tell me if you would like to see interviews of specific tributes. If I do a chapter of that, it'll probably be the tributes of the people who review! Here are the training scores for everyone else:**

**District One:**

**Blain Sype – 9**

**Alex Jeppson – 6**

**District Two: **

**Hector Hannon – 9**

**Brigid Perrilloux - 8**

**District Three:**

**Rain Nimond – 6**

**Mallia Jensen - 7**

**District Four:**

**Pike Reef – 10**

**Delta Woodrow – 9**

**District Five:**

**Merril Neisius – 4**

**Nikki Fray – 8**

**District Six:**

**Noah James – 9**

**Corrine Gunderman – 4 **

**District Seven:**

**Flint Oakley – 8**

**Wilhelmina Malavet – 6**

**District Eight:**

**Avish Cerall – 7**

**Ember Hotchson – 8**

**District Nine:**

**Aldrian Dusk – 5**

**Abohe Greene – 6**

**District Ten: **

**Kai Delloom – 4**

**Leatta Morris – 6**

**District Eleven:**

**Kale Turren – 5**

**Sadie Rivers – 5**

**District Twelve:**

**Douglas Arnold – 3**

**Mara Anne Thomas – 7**


End file.
